


Stranger's Always You

by becausehiships, kbvibes



Series: Hedwig Verse [2]
Category: CrissColfer - Fandom, Glee RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-03-17 08:19:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3522095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becausehiships/pseuds/becausehiships, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kbvibes/pseuds/kbvibes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Broadway dreams and New York City lights, is the inevitability of day jobs, old lovers, and friends back in the wicked little town of LA.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collection of prompt-based one-shots looking back at Chris and Darren's interactions before the events in Follow My Voice. You should probably read that one first, although this is chronologically first. We'll also be posting another collection of prompt-based one-shots looking at Chris and Darren's relationship that takes place after the events of Follow My Voice. I guess we kind of wrote the middle first. Not sorry.
> 
> Warning for casual drug (marijuana) use in this one-shot.

“So…” Darren looks around him like there’s anything else in the tiny box of a set that could possibly hold his attention apart from the gorgeous creature standing three feet away. “How’ve you been? We haven’t really-”

It takes Chris a minute to look back up to Darren from his phone. “Hmm? Oh, fine. More and more of the usual… you?”

Darren nods. “Good.”

Chris smiles distractedly and looks back down at his phone. He continues to type whatever he started a few minutes ago. Darren sighs. He needs to lighten this up, otherwise it’ll going to be a very long eight-hour shoot. He decides to go for the brightest light on his personal horizon.

“I, um… I’d been going on a few auditions lately, trying to line up what’s next. I think I found it... in New York.”

The makeup artists come in and splotch them both with powder. This generally means they’re getting ready to shoot again. The conversation goes silent while the girls buzz around and do their job. Chris picks it right back up as soon as they’re gone.

“Oh, yeah? I just got some news about what I will likely be doing when all of _this_ is over.” It’s not meant to come out as his-royal-highness as it does, Darren’s sure. He just smiles and nods. Chris deserves a life of success after Glee.

“Anything you can share?”

“It won’t happen until the _Coward_ picture wraps, but it looks like we have a studio locked down to develop the first movie based on my book. Still doesn’t quite seem real, actually. I can be excited about something, contribute and have my opinions matter, without having to do all the work. Nice change.”

Darren feels a surge of pride that starts out in the pit of his stomach and travels outward to spread a huge grin on his face. It leaves his fingers tingling in desire to just reach out already and embrace Chris tightly. Luckily, only one action manifests. 

“Woah! Chris, that’s huge.”

Chris smiles that self-deprecating smile that means he doesn’t really believe the words coming out of Darren’s mouth. “I guess. What about you? Promise not to tell.”

“Well, actually. I need your opinion on it. You’re the only one I could trust with this. I’m supposed to accept or deny by Monday, and my gut is telling me yes, a thousand times over. But… certain people in my life are not being so supportive about this one.”

The set of Chris’ neck and shoulders grows stiff and defensive by only the slightest fractions of movements. Anyone else would miss it entirely. “Are people in your life supportive about anything, Darren?”

“ _Chris_.”

“Sorry. You know how much I hate most of your people. Carry on. What is it?” Chris deems the conversation serious enough to warrant sliding his phone into his back pocket and giving Darren his unshared full attention. 

“Um.” Suddenly, Darren can’t breathe. He’s nervous, thinking about how Chris could possibly react to this. By saying just the role, Chris will read so much deeper into it (as he should) and realize what Darren will want to use the experience for. It’s the second hop of the lily pad into the rest of his career that he is very carefully shaping by this next offer. “Uh, Hedwig. Broadway. Following John Cameron Mitchell.”

Chris’ intake of breath is sharp, and Darren’s existence narrows to the sound and the look on his face at the news. He looks straight at Darren with those big, sea glass eyes that showcase his true feelings and he’d be so lucky to find a hint of delight. “What?” _There’s the gratification._

“Hedwig, as in NPH, Stephen Trask? Critically acclaimed, Tony-award winning, heartbreaking story about the bruised, broken, transgender rockstar?” Chris’ mouth twists at the corners and he huffs. “Are you serious?”

“Well-”

“Wait and you’re considering saying no to _Hedwig_?” Chris’ voice starts off shocked and condescending, until realization dawns on his face and sends him into a shrewd nod of acceptance. “ Darren! There is no way you can… Wait. Of course. Ricky is trying to talk you out of it.”

“Among others.”

“Like your girlfriend.”

Darren’s hand rises to rake anxiously through his hair before he remembers it is currently glued down into the Blaine helmet, and that he’d be skinned alive for wrecking it. Again. “She isn’t my girlfriend. But yes. Her too.” That’s an old, tired road he doesn’t want to walk down when he’s trying to tell Chris possibly the biggest news of his life.

“Darren, you _can’t_ listen to them. You have to take this job.” It’s more passion from Chris directed towards him than Darren has seen in quite a while. It makes him want to stumble backwards a step or two. “I think you really need to do this. How long is the run?”

“Well, that’s something I would have to negotiate. But as long as possible. I hate LA, Chris. I’m ready to make the move. Probably at least semi-permanently. I put an offer on a place there last week, even if _Hedwig_ doesn’t work out. I’m still going.” He doesn’t know if the last piece of information has any pertinence or not, but he’s hoping that, on some small level, it does.

“Do you know how important this would be for the whole community? Dare, you are essentially saying _fuck you_ to everyone who thinks you need to discuss your own sexuality with them.”

“I know. That’s the biggest reason why I’m considering this at all.”

Chris hums and stares at Darren, glimmering appraisal plain in his eyes. “You’d kill that role.”

He swallows around the lump in his throat before he can respond. No one else affects him quite like Chris. “That would be the goal, yeah.”

“I don’t think I have to tell you my vote. You knew before you even asked.”

It’s true. He did. But Chris’ approval and opinion matter even when the words of most of the people surrounding him account for jackshit in the matter.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while. I just needed it to be a little more concrete first.”

Something in Chris’ face shifts into a look that’s more open than the one people are accustomed to seeing on set. It’s one he wears with people he actually considers his friends or deems particularly worth his time. Darren’s never quite sure where, within that circle, he lies. “And you’re sure you would be ready to make that kind of leap?” It’s a question full of double meanings, weighted down with unspoken conversation they simply don’t let themselves have out loud. Luckily for Darren, they haven’t lost their talent to have conversations with their eyes that no one else is privy to. Chris smirks. “The jump from television to the stage, I mean.”

“I’m sick of the secrets. Broadway will take them and spin them into something I won’t ever have to _talk_ about. I’ll just be and that’s good enough.” Darren is exhausted. He wants to move away to New York and continue doing what he loves but this time, without all the extra weight of a manufactured Hollywood image in his carry-on. He’s hidden plenty of smiles for work and he’s done.

Chris nods silently. “That’s bold of you. I didn’t think I’d ever see the day.”

“That I grew a pair?” Darren’s lips pull up into a crooked grin.

“That you’d don a pair of gold platform heels and some ripped up fishnets.”

“I know what I’m signing up for here, Colfer.” Darren laughs quietly, reaching out to shove at Chris’ arm for the sake of an opportunity to touch. “No need to attempt a shock.”

It’s always like this. The verbal back and forth begins and without either of them realizing it, the physical space between their bodies starts to lessen inch by inch. Magnets pulling together from each corner of their separate worlds, slowly but surely succombing to the effects of that age-old gravitational force. 

“Well, you’ll need to get plenty of practice walking in them. Can’t have you breaking one of those dainty little ankles before your big debut. If you take it, of course.’

“For your information, I _have_ been practicing.” Darren raises an eyebrow as a challenge and laughs when Chris’ mouth forms a little O.

“And how’s that been going for you?”

“I’m going to take Broadway by the balls and make it my bitch, and it’s going to be via an angry, angry inch.”

“No. Dare-”

“I’m a poet; I didn’t even know it.”

The “ _you idiot_ ” sparkles in Chris’ blue eyes and it seems to illuminate the tiny cell-like elevator set. “I guess I’ll have to see that for myself one day. Anything to support an old friend.”

“Yeah, I’ll invite Dylan and Joey again so you can sneak out during the Starkid Singalong.”

“Those friends, I don’t hate. It’s the newer crowd of _associates_ that I seem to be allergic to.”

“That goes both ways, you know.”

The easy air between them thickens by a few degrees when one of Chris’ dimples disappears from his cheek and the corner of his mouth twitches downward. “I suppose.”

Darren’s mind screams at him to latch onto whatever the previous moment had been before Chris is gone from him again. They spend a lot of time these days within an arm’s reach of one another but still oceans apart. “So, you’d really come and see the show?” He knows there is a far more likely chance that Chris is simply making conversation, and that it will be forgotten about entirely as soon as he walks off the set at the end of the day, but he’s always been a fan of taking any chance and making the best of it. Except when it came to one thing.

“Possibly. But if you’re as anticipated as I expect you might be, it could be impossible to score a ticket. I guess we’ll see.”

“God, Chris. You are just as fucking frustrating as you were the first day I met you.” Darren’s grin shows Chris that he’s teasing, keeping it light. 

Chris eyebrows raise at the challenge. “I never denied otherwise. Someone’s got to keep you on your toes around here, Golden Boy.”

Darren snorts ungracefully. “I think those days are long passed.”

The director of photography steps in and speaks up. “Okay guys. Let’s not curse, but keep going. Still rollin’! We’re on Fox.”

“What the hell? I had no idea-”

“But we’re not-”

“Shit, guys! You can’t tell-”

The crewmember laughs from their spot behind the scene. “The flirty back and forth, it’s great. Go with it for a while.”

Chris looks at Darren, grimace clear on his face. “What would Kurt and Blaine talk about in a fake elevator anyway?”

Darren sighs and smooths down his hair, a nervous gesture he makes when trying to slip into characters. “Who looks better while crying? Fuck if I know. Clothes, food. Their future mutant-but-fabulous offspring.”

Chris laughs silently through his nose. “Are we naming the Klaine kids? Please just let me die.”

Darren eases down to the floor and crosses his legs in front of him. “I always wanted them to get really stoned together once. That would have been amazing, right? Then they could just screw each other, eat cold leftovers out of the fridge, and be normal for once.”

Chris looks down at Darren and sighs. “Kurt Hummel doesn’t _do_ leftovers. He does fancy Whole Foods picnic baskets on the floor of elevators.”

Darren grins up at Chris with his eyes squinted and making dramatic faces until Chris sticks his tongue out and looks back at him cross-eyed. “He totally could! Boy scout Blaine would teach him. If the sex was good enough and Kurt was completely fucking come-dumb and stoned, that might be the best date night they’d ever had! Could even name their kids after it, make it this hilarious _Gwyneth's kid’s name is Apple_ kinda thing.”

“So if the sex was that good, they’d be naming their kids… Cold Fettuccine Alfredo From Village Pizza or something? Stupid asses.”

“They are.”

“-eaten with their fingers. Ugh.”

“Oh, but that’s the only way when you’re baked out of your mind!”

“And as you so eloquently put it, come-dumb. Poor innocent Blaine would be so wrecked-” Chris’ eyes go wide. “I have a brilliant idea.”

Darren sits up and leans his back on the fake elevator wall. “All of your ideas are brilliant, Colfer.”

“No, really. This is brilliant. With a capital B.” He swallows and looks at the camera, breaking the fourth wall. “Guys, can I take a quick bathroom break?”

“Cut! Take fifteen, everybody! Back at one thirty-five PM.”

Chris jumps up. “Meet me in my trailer.” He pulls out his phone again and texts rapidly as he walks off. 

Darren’s been not-so-secretly held up by Chris virtually since the day they’d met. He would follow him anywhere, including Club Chris unsupervised at the end of the parking lot next to Stage Seventeen. 

Darren knocks on the door stealthily then lets himself in. Chris’ assistant glares at him from up and over his computer, but then Chris - _Kurt_ \- settles on the couch with a tiny joint hanging from his mouth. 

Darren’s smile creeps up on him, even if he really doesn’t want it there, and he gives a half-assed wave in greeting. “Hey, can… Can we go to my trailer?” Eyes shift from the third person in the room and back to Chris. “Please? I’ve got the better couch.” They’re identical, but who’s counting? “I can’t do this with fifty fucking Grumpy Cats judging me.”

Chris wordlessly tucks the bud into the palm of his hand and disappears back outside. 

Darren falls into step beside him, their strides matching up easily, as they wind their way through the small maze of trailers. “I’m not even going to fucking ask why you had that at work.”

Chris smirks and reaches to pull the door to Darren’s trailer open ahead of them. “Maybe I’m a mind reader. Or maybe these last few months where we sit around on our asses 90% of the time watching people we don’t even know sing are just really dull.”

“We’re so going to get fired.”

“I _dare_ them to fire either one of us, Darren. We…” Chris pretends to inhale the unlit joint. “are fan favorites. Besides, even if I said it, people would just think my Twitter was hacked again. Now, are you going to smoke with me, or not?”

“Best job ever.” Darren passes Chris a red plastic lighter that he admittedly has only used to light candles around his trailer in the past year or so, and watches transfixed as Chris expertly sparks up the end of the rolled joint and takes a small initial hit through his lips, then a larger one with eyes locked on Darren’s face.

The purse of his lips, the graceful arch of his neck, his fluttering eyelashes. _Fuck_ , that is sexier than it has any right to be. 

“Almost.” Chris falls on Darren’s couch, holding up the cigarette to Darren.

Darren fits his lips around the tip and takes a drag himself, the thick smoke burning down his throat and into his lungs. He fights back the urge to cough. He must be getting soft in his old age. He sees Chris’ smirk out of the corner of his eye. “If you get me in trouble, I’ll never forgive you for this, asshole.”

“Oh, Dare, you’ll always forgive me.” 

It’s almost a shame how true that statement probably is. 

“Just think, now we can go in there and shoot this thing without all the awkward shit. Won’t that be nice?” Chris watches Darren hit again and their fingers skim one another’s when he takes it again. He takes another long pull of smoke into his chest, holding the smoke for several seconds before letting it out in a slow huff that makes him choke a bit on the end. 

Darren leans back against the trailer wall and closes his eyes with a small smile. “I fucking love when we’re not awkward. We should try to not be awkward. I miss my buddy.”

Chris snorts and leans his head back against the wall. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Darren’s eyes are wide and happy. “I thought that was our thing! That’s how you always tweet me! I thought it was a _thing_!”

“It’s political correctness, Darren. No more, no less.” Chris rolls his eyes.

Darren can feel the laziness of the smoke curling its way through his brain. He really has become a fucking lightweight. Embarrassing. “Either way. I have missed you, you know. I know we’ve both been busy with…” _Our lives, other people, trying hard to pretend the other doesn’t exist except when we absolutely have to_. “...stuff, but we don’t have to be strangers, right? I mean once this is all over.”

Chris’ eyes look cat-like and too shiny in the dim trailer. Darren hadn’t thought to turn on any lights. “When this is all over we can move on. You have the bright lights of Broadway to look forward to, you won’t need any of this nonsense holding you back.”

 _You were never the thing that was holding me back. I honestly hope you know that._ “Chris, you’re literally the only person who just told me to go for Hedwig, without thinking twice about it. Because you know me, you know what I need... Nobody else in my life-”

There’s a knock on Darren’s trailer door. “Guys, I’ve been sent to find you.” 

One of the PAs. Break is over.

Chris hurries to stamp the joint out on the side of a spare mug Darren’s had lying around on the table in his trailer for weeks.

“Give us three minutes!” Darren yells out towards the door, and nervously paces around the three square feet of hallway inside his trailer for something to do. His heart races like it would do when his mom when nearly catch him smoking in high school. Chris giggles loudly from the tiny closet sized bathroom. He emerges with a spare bottle of Darren’s own cologne in his hand.

“Here’s what I think we should do.”

“What?” Darren holds still while Chris starts spritzing him down with the cologne, not seeming to miss a beat himself.

“Let’s go out there and have one last non-awkward scene of Kurt and Blaine before they get back together. But this time, we’ll be high as fuck and saying whatever comes to mind. This one’s for us.” Chris’ eyes are bright, his pupils only the slightest bit wider than usual, and his grin is relaxed and easy as he smooths his hands down the front of Darren’s ridiculous pink plaid wardrobe shirt for wrinkles.

As if he’s ever been able to say no to Chris regarding virtually anything.

“Not like we have much of a choice now, Colfer.” He grabs the bottle out of Chris’ hand, and proceeds to spray Chris down as well, a small possessive part of his brain liking the thought of Chris smelling like his cologne very much.

“I always did like it when you choose to see things my way.”

They head back to the set and sit down right where they were, except this time their eyes are a little more glassy and they’re genuinely more relaxed with each other. 

They get through the first hour smoothly, playing off one another and ad-libbing their way through several silly scenes as Kurt and Blaine draw closer to their inevitable reunion. They talk about New York and white hot chocolate, and they talk about being a famous movie-star couple with kids named after fattening foods.

Chris is laughing so hard as Darren rocks back and forth trying to recite _Hedwig_ lyrics from memory that he hits his head hard on the “elevator wall” behind him. It feels like they don’t stop laughing for hours. It’s as natural as breathing and feels a lot like those precious handful of months on the set after they first met. Darren misses that.

And when the time comes, the kiss plays well, tender and wanting. In character for two old lovers who have missed the feel of each other’s lips and touch. Darren may or may not lose himself far enough to taste for a hint of sweet bitter smoke on Chris’ breath with a quicksilver flicker of his tongue. He doubts that they will use that particular take.

Without either one of them giving even a glance at their phones to check the time, suddenly it’s after one and the scene has been wrapped.

They walk together to the sea of trailers, Darren’s hands deeply woven into Blaine’s pockets to prevent him from doing anything completely idiotic. “What time is your call tomorrow?”

“Afternoon, I think. I hope.”

Darren laughs. “Lucky. I’m here at seven. I’m just gonna crash in the trailer.”

Chris flickers his eye for half a second. Darren sees it. 

“Well, have a good night.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you too. See you tomorrow.”

Darren watches Chris walk away, heading towards the lot where they all park. He makes it all of ten seconds before his feet are rushing after him.

“Chris! Hey.”

Chris turns with a curious, strangely expectant look written across his face.

“If I do this show, if I take it… I really do want you there at least once. It would…. That would be really awesome of you, you know?”

Chris’ lips fight back a smile. “I’ll see what my schedule looks like once you’re rehearsed and ready to go.”

Darren grins. “You won’t have to pay a dime, okay? I’ll make sure your name is on the list. Least I can do for my buddy, and all. Seriously. Any nights you want.”

“It’s a tempting offer.”

“Uh huh…”

“Goodnight, Darren.”

“Night, Colfer.”

He waits and watches until Chris turns a corner, taking him out of his sight for about the millionth time. Funny that he can seem to remember almost every single one. 

_“...and you’re shining like the brightest star, a transmission on the midnight radio…”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the one that brings Chris Colfer crashing headfirst into the Berlin Wall.
> 
> Note: This one-shot takes a deep look into the mind and motivations of one Mr. Chris Colfer in the weeks leading up to him walking through Darren's dressing room door in Chapter One of Follow My Voice. Denial is a powerful thing, and he has no idea just how hard he is about to crash into the Berlin Wall and how it will turn his orderly life upside down.
> 
> We're proud of this one, so we hope you all enjoy it and let us know what you think!

Chris tries to take it all in. The cover band is cheesy and stupid, singing Journey hits as if that was the only direction when some production assistant hired them. He looks around, seeing everyone he’s known for the past seven years of his life. Everyone’s together for the last time ever, out here in a parking lot/carnival that could have been so much better if they didn’t just decide on a theme yesterday. Pulled into the fray for a couple of group photos with co-stars and members of the crew, he smiles that famous closed smile that proves he doesn’t really want to be here. Eventually, for the most part, people look past him as he stands on the sidelines with a plastic drink cup in his hand and a small half-hearted smile on his face. 

There were parts of the job he would miss, sure. People who he tolerated better than others. However, it is no secret around the set that Chris is more ready for it all to be over and done with than _anyone_. He was never the best at fitting in and feeling at ease within a crowd, and that had never happened to him here either. He wasn’t born for the Hollywood celebrity lifestyle he’s been clearly handed on a silver platter. He doesn’t fit, he’s conscious of that, and he can’t wait to take a step away from the insanity of the entire thing. 

He takes another sip of his drink, drowning himself in it as Ashley comes over with a sly smile. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“What time are we supposed to be done here?” Chris smiles. He knows she is looking for something profound, something with feeling. She’s not going to get it. He’s exhausted and has more productive things to be doing with his free time, rather than cheeseburgers and corndogs and _slushies_ in red solo cups. They could have at least sprang for some booze. 

Chris feels he’s paid his dues and said his farewells to everything and everyone here with the glaring, scary exception of one. 

He spots the scary exception himself across the courtyard dancing to whatever stupid 80s hit the band is playing now, completely elated in his surprise lunch break wonderland. Chris watches him for a few minutes in the way he always had: stealthily and from a far distance. He’s acutely aware that this could very well be one of the last times he’ll see him face to face. 

That’s really the only ping he finds in his heart, that the goodbye they deserve isn’t something they’ll be able to get. Unless it is. 

Chris walks away from Ashley mid-sentence, throwing his empty cup out along the way. He coughs, hoping that the taste of corndog escapes his mouth with it. He can’t believe he ate a corndog. 

“Hey. Darren?”

Darren stops mid… whatever that kind of dance move was supposed to be, with one arm flung over his head and a bright smile on his face. Chris forces himself not to laugh. 

“Colfer.”

He looks around, tries to figure out an empty spot they could have some privacy. “Hey. Do you know how to get up to the roof of the stage?”

“There’s these things, I think they’re called stairs.”

“Cool, asshole. Come up there with me.” Chris turns on his heel and hopes to everything that Darren is following. Chris crosses the stage and climbs the stairs, some distant and relatively unconcerned part of his mind wonders what these sound stages will all be in a month’s time. He can hear Darren’s footsteps coming up behind him and he shoves through the door and out onto the roof. The music from the party is still louder than he’d like, but at least there is no crushing press of bodies and smiling faces of people trying to pull him into unspeakably awkward hugs, when Chris knows he can’t even accurately remember their names. 

“What’s up?”

“I just wanted-”

“Dudes! This is the perfect party spot! Why didn’t I think of this?” One of their more casual friends screams in Darren’s face. Chris looks shyly at the group, smiling a bit when he sees his own friend/assistant/tried-it-and-it-failed-miserably included in the small group that comes barreling through the door. He takes a deep breath and dismisses even the idea of having any kind of meaningful conversation now. 

“Yeah, man! It’s the best. Perfect fucking view of the band!” Darren leans over and screams for more Journey, then freaks out fanboy style when they listen. The rest of the crowd piles in separating Darren and Chris in every extent of the word. This was Chris’ last chance and he blew it. 

He feels Darren’s eyes on him, a warm and loaded weight over the shoulders of their friends, watching his every move. He refuses to look over until he can’t help it anymore, turns and gives a short smile before leaving the rooftop as quickly as he came. He hears footsteps on the stairs behind him but he knows it’s not Darren. He’d never follow him down with so many eyes and ears around; Darren has found a way to ignore the carelessness he used to be.

Chris isn’t sure how to classify the friendship he had with Darren. There’s been so much water under the bridge and things half said or ignored completely that it’s always made the idea of trying to be close to Darren seem more daunting than anything else. He’s moved past the days of feeling angry or resentful of the choices Darren’s made in his own life, and now he’d place himself more in the realm of indifferent. Not unsympathetic or disappointed. Right there in the middle. Maybe it’s strangely fitting that the two of them won’t have the same resolution and actualized goodbyes that he feels he’s made with everyone else around set. 

Darren’s been a confusing force in Chris’ life since the day he met him. Why change the trend now?

He tries to enjoy the rest of their lunch break, even shares a ride on the ferris wheel with his unrelated-to-Glee friend and poses for a few final silly selfies with Ashley and Amber. They still have one scene to shoot and he knows it’ll be an emotional one. Tears, both real and crocodile, painted on smiles, and enough sentimentality to bring the walls crumbling down. He pushes the regret of not being able to get the full closure he needs out of his mind. But he’s a professional, still at work. He’ll pull himself together later. 

The day drones on in the choir room set, but at least Kurt and Blaine are allowed to sit on the piano bench. On the third hour, Chris starts to feel antsy, warm, and too close to Darren. It’s never bothered him before, but the voice inside his head screams that this is the last time in his life and that means something. 

“You know, Colfer, we are about an hour away from letting our balls breathe until the end of time.”

“Me, maybe. You and your jock strap this summer won’t be so lucky.”

Darren’s bark of a laugh makes the Assistant Director yell _cut_ in an angry kind of way, which startles Darren into submission, which makes Chris lose it in a snorting, laughing fit he can’t stop if his life depended on it. 

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I’m fine.” The makeup ladies step forward to delete the shine from their foreheads and the scene rolls again.

“Guys. We’re so close. Hang in there! Sound rolling!”

Chris pulls his face back into Kurt’s emotional but reserved mask as Matt begins to lip sync to his own voice for the seventh time, but that mask is hard to hold when Darren elbows him in the back and gives him a little naughty smile like they’re school boys who’ve been caught and reprimanded by the teacher.

God. Maybe he will miss certain things about this place after all. 

In true Blaine fashion, Darren leans over and kisses Kurt’s cheek. The warm breath on Chris’ earlobe tingles, “No more teachers, no more books…”

“Shhh.” Chris keeps his face as hard as Kurt would. “I’m working.”

“No more Ian Brennan mad at us because we have more talent than the princess.”

Chris looks at Darren, blinks, and effectively loses it yet again.

“Cut!”

“God, Chris. Be professional!” Darren grins that same evil grin and Chris just laughs harder because _that’s_ the funniest joke of them all. 

As the crew moves around to reset the scene one more time and they receive more than a few _dirty looks_ from the room full of actors and extras, Chris composes his face and lifts a foot to kick Darren in the shin. “We’ve got less than an hour. Even you can behave for that long.”

“Maybe me and Blaine don’t want it to be over.” Darren shrugs. 

This makes Chris roll his eyes and a smirk. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re just dying to sit here on this tiny piano bench with me until your ass goes numb and we sweat to death under these lights in the worst costumes I’ve ever seen. I’ve spent an hour trying to figure out why there are clocks on my pants.”

Darren raises an eyebrow and just smiles at him. He shrugs. “There would be worse ways to spend my time, I assure you.”

“Sound rolling! Roll sound!”

Chris turns forward and prepares to present his best Kurt Hummel face to the world, _one more time_.

**THREE WEEKS LATER**

Chris loves when the seats on his intercontinental flight recline to be flat. He can’t get any real rest unless this happens and he is obsessed with seat number 2B right now. Or, he would be if the plane would stop _vibrating_.

There’s turbulence somewhere over the mid-Atlantic and he gives up getting any actual sleep. He adjusts the seat back up and pulls out his laptop with a resigned sigh, leaving the light off so he doesn’t disrupt all of the other passengers who aren’t cursed with his finicky sleeping habits, and logs on. His mind is too fatigued to write, so he entertains himself by scrolling through random science blogs and news sites until he gets an alert of a new email. It’s… _oh_.

He had been taking a meeting at the main office for the production company who is going to adapt his book into a screenplay when he’d literally walked right into the back of an attractive guy who was innocently trying to wait for the elevator, spilling the poor guy’s latte everywhere. Chris fumbled over his apology and somehow ended up getting a dinner date out of the entire ordeal. He was handsome enough, tall, and blonde, and seemed relatively unimpressed by _who_ Chris was. So, one dinner turned into another drink two nights later. Before he knew it, Chris had landed himself a semi-quasi boyfriend. If he was being perfectly honest, he knew he was bored quickly with the guy, but he’d felt so restless and out of sorts since the show had wrapped and this so-called relationship gave him something to do. Okay, _someone_ to do. Chris has felt keyed up and annoyingly uncomfortable in his skin lately, and sex seemed to be as good an outlet as anything else to rid himself of the ache.

It’s a sweet little message reminding Chris that they’d agreed to escape LA for a long weekend as soon as he returns from London. Maybe he’ll try to take this one a little more seriously before walking away after a month or two like any of the others he’s dated in the past four or five years. But probably not. His heart isn’t fluttering the way it’s supposed to at the thought of this guy, and he’s generally unaffected by that fact. He decides he’ll just reply later, once he can draft up something that sounds excited enough. He closes the browser window and stares out at the dark sky and blanket of clouds below. 

Absentmindedly, he hits shuffle on his iPod and settles in above the ocean, lies flat again, and watches as his feet disappear underneath the person in front of him. He blinks as they soar through the clouds, higher than the earth and the moon and the sun. The stars are right there with him as he listens to a familiar song he liked back in high school, a song that focuses on a lost lover the singer must let go. The ceiling moves with the turbulence and his stomach turns. Sleep isn’t coming, so he hits shuffle again and… of course.

_“I walked across an empty land, I knew the pathway…”_

The damn song blares through his earbuds as if its sole purpose is torture and his mind flashes back to the very beginning of it all. Although it’s not _his_ voice mauling his brain cells from the inside out, Chris can hear him loud and clear. As if this time apart hasn’t healed as it should have.

He pulls the privacy curtain tighter still, as if he was letting anyone in before and the emotion takes him away. There aren’t tears; there haven’t been any at all. If Chris is being honest, Kurt was ready to leave his body the moment he moved to New York. He could have been a B-storyline, an infrequent mention offscreen while Chris lived his life as he should have from the start. So, why is the nostalgia hitting him like a hurricane? He’s not sure, but he knows that this song is a perfect depiction of what his life’s whirlwind has been since _Glee_ wrapped. 

They had a great time on set most of the time. They were able to be professional and distant, and the nostalgia, he realizes, comes from a state of working with the people he genuinely liked. They didn’t get a proper goodbye, they probably never will get that closure that Chris once felt was needed, but Chris is okay with that. He’s okay.

Darren should be starting his full scale rehearsals for the show soon, and Chris feels the corners of his mouth pull upwards as he idly wonders how many times he’s fallen on his ass in the heels, how many times he’s fumbled the wigs. He knows that he’ll do great, but Chris has told himself that he won’t be there in person to see if for himself. The fanbase is as rabid as ever in the weeks since they got to watch Kurt and Blaine get their saccharine sweet happily ever after. Chris has all but exiled himself from Twitter and all other forms of social media at the very thought of what questions must be waiting for him in his inbox. The idea of having to walk through a crowd of people to try and see Darren’s show is just… No. He can’t. For the thousandth time or so, Chris tells himself that it’s best to leave all of the past where it belongs, behind him. 

_“You think I’m pretty…”_

_Oh, for the love of God._ Chris yanks his headphones out of his ears and throws his phone into his bag at his side. _Screw you too, Katy._ That concludes his music for the rest of this torturous flight. 

A week later he’s stateside once more and in New York for a benefit he is set to appear and speak at in a couple of days. He hadn’t given any thought to it, how close he might be to the theatre district, when he let someone else on his team arrange for his hotel reservations. Just like he hadn’t taken any notice of the fact that several of his former (he’s still not used to _former_ ) castmates were a two hour Eurostar ride away in Paris while he was right there in London a week ago It was like fate was intentionally doing everything in its power to tie him to a world that Chris wants nothing more than to be free from for good. 

Alla talks him into a drink at the bar in the lobby of their hotel after he’s all checked in, where he buys her two overpriced martinis just because there’s pure cedar tables and an intimate corner for them to talk. Fifty-fifth street, ain’t too shabby.

They’re both tired, puffy-eyed, and reek of airport, but Chris laughs at all of her good-natured jokes and general conversation to catch him up on her life. 

He finds himself wondering how those rehersals are going now, just a few blocks south, and if Darren will possibly be ready in time for his big opening night as the _Berlin Wall_ in just a month. Once Chris realizes the direction his thoughts have taken he shakes his head and starts mentally reciting a list of state capitals in his head. It must be the jet lag. 

**THREE WEEKS LATER**

“I was thinking we go up to Big Sur for a night or two.”

Chris’ thoughts are running all the way west on Sunset Boulevard, far away from any suggestion that might turn this into something more than casual.

“I won’t have more than a few hours off for a while. Maybe in a few weeks.” Maybe in a few weeks, they won’t know each other any longer. Chris closes his eyes as he takes a bite of his dinner. He mentally kicks himself in the balls. He has to try or else he never will. “But maybe there’s a way to move some stuff around. Let me check when I get home.” He smiles because he can see the hope in this man’s face. His perfect smile proves just how much. Chris swears to himself that he’ll at least try with this one.

The dinner talk is kept light even if Chris has a hard time keeping his mind from wandering. There’s a tricky story arc for his mystery novel that has been giving him pure hell, and after seeing a guy sprinting across the street outside, Chris’ fingers are itching for his notebook. Would it be incredibly rude to plop his moleskine down on the middle of the table during a date? Just a few lines; it wouldn’t really hurt, would it?

If he could just plot out how that particular chase scene plays out…

“Earth to Mister Colfer, I repeat… earth to Colfer.”

“Don’t be an asshole, Darren.”

The words are no sooner out of Chris’ mouth than he wishes more than anything that he could pluck them out of the air and swallow them back down his throat. 

“I…” _He what? Why did he just…_

His dinner date smiles nervously. He has to know exactly who that name applies to, everyone with access to a television set or computer for the past five years knows, even if Chris is 100% certain that he’s never mentioned him. He doesn’t. He can’t. 

“I am so sorry. I’m sort of on a writing deadline and my thoughts are all over the place. I couldn’t even tell you what’s going on inside my head right now.”

But it wasn’t just now. Ever since the damn flight over to the UK and his demonic iPod, that particular name has been popping up into his head on at least a daily basis. Usually more. 

He’d hear a song and wonder what it would sound like in Darren’s key. See one of the colorful and often strange people around LA and imagine what he would say about it. He’d take a bite of exceptionally great sushi and just want to share the name of the place with Darren, the true master of all things spicy and raw.

It’s always unexpected and takes Chris so off guard that he’s nearly walked into the side of a parked car and dropped a bowl of Brian’s food in the middle of his kitchen floor. It’s unsettling, maddening. Fucking _annoying_. 

Is this what he gets for allowing himself to walk off the studio lot without making sure that he’d reached a logical place of closure with absolutely everyone? Was Darren _fucking_ Criss going to haunt him for the rest of his life just because Chris didn’t want to have some big, potentially awkward and memory-ridden scene in front of fifty other people?

_Dammit._

“Chris?”

He blinks back into the present and sees that his companion’s smile has faded from his face now and is looking at Chris puzzledly and more than a little agitated. 

“Um, were you about ready to go? I think I’m full.” Without waiting for an answer, Chris turns his head and begins looking around for their waiter to bring the check.

“Yeah. I’ll go grab the car at the valet.” His date shuffles outside. Chris thinks he could see him physically biting his tongue.

From there, it seems to only get worse. Weeks pass and it’s like Darren is seeping through back into his life without actually being present at all. He’s like an infection, seeping its way through his bloodstream, and Chris doesn’t know where to get the damn antibiotics to make himself well. He’d never had the man’s name inside his head this much when they saw each other five or six days a week. It makes no sense that he can’t seem to be rid of him now. Still, even though he has the contact right there in his phone, Chris doesn’t text and he doesn’t call. 

He’s restless one night - what else is new - and catches the movie they saw together on the tour bus all those years ago, pleasantly buzzing through FX at three in the morning on his television.

The radio is relentless, Darren’s best friend’s brother announces the end of his run in a musical in Hollywood. Endless songs that remind Chris of Darren for one reason or another popping up and Chris forcing his foot on the break two seconds in time before crashing into the wall of the 101. 

A meeting in Hollywood and Melrose is the best way to go, passing Paramount. Another meeting in Burbank, passing the IKEA and the small radio studio across the street. Passing WB on the way back over the hill, remembering their time… his last time on Ellen. 

He’s sitting home alone trying to go over some last minute edits before he has to send them off to his editor when the opening chords and the first verse of the song reach his ears from where he’d left his iPod docked and playing in the kitchen. 

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” He rushes to the speaker and stares at it as the lyrics flow. Frantic, he groans through the first chorus and keeps analyzing the lyrics.

_“I find myself countin' the days, I find myself countin' your lashes, I think I memorized your face, But then again who hasn't.”_

“Oh my _God!_ Fuck you!” He frantically pulls the plug out of the wall and storms off, slamming the door for no one and gets in the shower. 

This is so stupid. How could he forget about that song, that _night_. He was in rare form that weekend; said fuck it all and went anyway. He knew Darren and Justin and Adam and Dianna and the others were all going to be there. He knew that the night would probably end up with something terrible happening, at least for his image. And it did. Of course, it did. He got drunk, sloppy, careless, _caught_. At the time, he was ignorant enough to think that the night might have been a turning point, the significance of Darren’s lust toward him clear as day in a dark, grungy Hollywood club. But it all fell apart yet again once they returned to work two days later.

These were things Chris doesn’t think about anymore, things that he can’t. 

He swears off of music yet again that day, his iPod beginning to collect dust on the counter as the rest of his spring days blur away into the past.

**FOUR WEEKS LATER**

The mindless distraction he allows himself every six hours or so is brought to him by Broadway.com today. He hasn’t been able to see a show in so long and he’s itching for something more than what Wicked was at the Pantages. Newsies is in LA now, but that won’t quite do it for him either. It’s not the bright lights of Broadway. But he feels like he can’t go anywhere near midtown Manhattan. Not until after July, at least. 

His subconscious challenges him every time his brain says no. Of course he can, but _should_ he? No. Absolutely not.

He scrolls through, clicking on the reviews of _The Lion King_ back in New York, happy that it’s doing well after several anniversaries celebrated. Then the screen scrolls without a touch of his mouse and right there in the middle of the screen is Darren’s eyes, a pop-up advertisement clicking out to Telecharge for _Hedwig_ tickets, featuring Darren Criss. Below, is a link to read reviews and an article about Darren’s overtake of the role. 

The pink glitter - of course, it’s pink - surrounding the blazing hazel whiskey gold sends an undeniable shoot of energy to the bottom of Chris stomach and he stares. _That_ picture is blown up to the size of half a city block and emblazoned across theater doors? Christ. He wonders if traffic accidents have picked up drastically along Forty-Fourth street.

Chris chews viciously at his bottom lip. After weeks of doing all he could to pretend that he isn’t even aware of Darren’s Broadway stint or acknowledging the least bit of curiosity about it, his hand hovers over the link like he’s frozen. This is one of those moments where he knows that he is probably going to regret a decision more than ever before. He’s conscious of the fact and owns it but it does not stop Chris’ finger from coming down on the trackpad of his computer. 

The article is headed by another press photo of Hedwig in all her wigged and glittered glory, ripped fishnet stockings and tiny denim shorts hugging every curve of Darren’s body in a way that even the tightest of Blaine’s pants hadn’t quite done justice. He’s glorious, strong, and defiant in his pose with huge eyes and a microphone to his painted cherry lips. 

Darren looks gorgeous. Chris feels a throbbing ache of pride swell within his chest. _He’s really doing it._ Darren isn’t letting the people who, for so long tried to sculpt him into their idea of what a successful actor should be, keep him from taking on the entire fucking world. Finally. The revelation, seeing it for himself, can’t not make Chris smile and lift a hand to touch the vibrant creature on the laptop screen. 

His eyes skim over the text below the photograph and Chris’ smile fades. 

**_Glee_ star Darren Criss delivers a less than solid first week as Hedwig in _Hedwig and the Angry Inch_**

The review isn’t _bad_ , but the critic seems dismissive. She passive aggressively throws jabs at Darren for coming straight off a television role and directly onto the stage. His nerves have shown, something that in the dog eat dog world of Broadway can cause them to devour you alive. There is praise for his voice, and tickets are selling well, even if that fact is followed up by the interjection that the majority of the audience is comprised of young women. Chris expected nothing less.  


But Darren acting “distracted, unfocused, careless” was not the Darren he knows. Knew. There’s something going on with him and Chris is... worried? Concerned? Interest piqued? _Shit._

The upside? The critic doesn’t mention Darren’s sexuality. That’s kind of a win. 

This cannot become a thing. If even a small part of his brain becomes stuck on the idea of something being wrong with Darren, he knows his overactive imagination will blow it up into something a few hundred times worse than what it really is. No, Chris refuses to go down that road again, with the thought and memory of Darren lurking around every corner of his day and in his dreams. He will literally lose his mind. 

Why hadn’t he just gotten the closure he needed when he had the chance? Was this guilt? Morbid curiosity? That same stupid fucking buzz of attraction that had gotten him into this mess in the first place?

Chris can’t let this consume him. He won’t. He has a seminal bio-pic to prepare for. He has research and studying. He has a book coming out in just two months, a year’s worth of work consolidated into five hundred printed pages. He can’t let something like his ghost of a crush on Darren distract him from the things he needs to do to get ready for that. 

_But._

Despite his long to do list, he can only think of one feasible way to solve this little _problem_ of his.

He doesn’t think about it for longer than it takes to type in the URL for the airline site into his browser, blinking away the picture of Hedwig in her golden heels. If he stops to let himself consider what he is actually doing, and worse _why_ , Chris knows that anxiety and doubt will overtake him and he will find himself curled into a ball on his living room floor. He books a flight that leaves out of LAX in just under three hours.

The clothes get thrown haphazardly into the suitcase and he’s on his way to El Segundo in twenty minutes flat. He makes the necessary calls from the car: Alla, Ashley in New York, his assistant to make sure that Brian and Cooper will still be alive when he gets back. It will only be a few days, of course. He just needs to get away. The idea to call the loosely-termed “boyfriend” never once crosses his mind as he merges onto the freeway. 

LAX, as usual, is stressful and disappointing and so fucking slow. He eventually finds a parking spot, texts his assistant the location of it so he can come get the car later, and he’s on his way. To New York. Not to see Darren because he wants to - he doesn’t want to - but because the asshole won’t get out of his ever-present mind. 

He’s never done something so reckless before in his life. Except the whole of getting involved in the first place. That one thing.

There are endless reasons to visit the city, and Darren is only one of eight million people there. He’ll just spend a long weekend in New York, see the show for himself, confirm that Darren’s okay and being as amazing as he has always infuriatingly been at everything else he’s ever done, and maybe, _finally_ , close the book on this long crazy chapter in his life. 

There’s nothing odd or unusual about that at all. So what if his hands are shaking as he steps into the first class security line. 

“I’m sorry, sir. Your ticket is in coach.”

Chris looks up at the beast of the security agent and blinks. He looks down to confirm for himself and swallows. “Ah, I guess it is. Thanks.” 

He gets denied for first class due to an over book of this particular flight that had an availability an hour and a half ago, but he decides (without really thinking it over) that he’ll be fine for the short, balmy, six hour flight in row seventeen. With strangers sitting on either side of him and no legroom at all. 

He waits on the security line for the full forty minutes; he barely has time to grab a bite since he won’t get anything on the flight. He ignores the four calls and sixteen texts from Ashley demanding to know why he is suddenly deeming to get his “scrawny butt onto a plane” and pay his best friend a visit after months of her begging him to do so. He’s not about to explain his scattered true motivation on this one. He sends her a quick message saying how excited he is to see her later tonight with a little smile emoticon and turns off his phone. 

Everything else can wait.

Before he knows it, boarding has begun and although he has to wait until all of the elite are comfortable in their oversized, cushioned seats, he’s ready to get going. Or, as ready as he’ll ever be. He’s not thinking about it right now. 

He buckles his seatbelt and smiles at the teenage girl sitting directly next to him. He’s in for a wild ride.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one from Dublin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The night that Chris goes after what he wants. In other words, this is the first time Chris and Darren have sex set during the final nights of the 2011 Glee Live tour. Yes people, we finally get to the smut.
> 
> This is your little reward for surviving the insane week we Crisscolfer shippers have had, and making up for the lack 'o Glee.

Darren’s arm goes around Chris for the whole world to see while they’re waiting at baggage claim. “I can’t believe your bag is just… black.” He’s certainly more touchy-feely than any of Chris’ few friends back home. 

Chris looks up into Darren’s eyes and flushes. “I haven’t gotten around to getting new luggage. I’ve had the same bag since high school.” 

“You’re pretty adorable, Colfer.” Darren smiles and scratches the back of Chris’ scalp. Their group definitely looks a lot like one of those annoying Spring Break trips headed to Disneyland. Except they’re halfway across the world and it’s definitely not a school trip. 

Darren starts a conversation with one of the tour managers/babysitters next to him, holding onto Chris all the while like nothing fazes him at all. 

Chris leans into Darren’s body, just to wait until the carousel starts moving, to pass the time until they all receive their bags. And just like clockwork, Lea bounces to his side with Amber, arm in arm. They look at him, grinning as if they are his biggest fans. 

“Oh my _God_. What?” 

“You guys look super… boyfriendy right now, you know!” Lea smirks directly at Darren, accidentally catching his eye and attention. Dammit. Chris looks up too and blushes hard when Darren winks at him. 

Lea and Amber giggle knowingly as Darren turns back and blinks. 

“Uh, what did you just say? I don’t think that’s a word, Princess.” 

Lea sings at them, in an annoying teasing fashion. “Christopher and Darren, sittin’ in a tree…” 

Chris stiffens his back and straightens his posture; he’s automatically back on the defense. He feels Darren’s eyes on him, questioning and calming, so Chris looks over and shrugs as Darren tilts his head. 

Darren has the unnerving ability to captivate Chris’ attention like he’s the only human being in the world. Sometimes Chris wishes he was. Like now, for instance. Chris meets his eyes for a millisecond then stares into the distance, willing the girls away. He’s so embarrassed and his bright red cheeks are every indication. 

“Uh uh. Don’t listen to them, babe. You’re allowed to like me if you want to. I would hope that you do, if all the making out really happened during this trip.” Lea and Amber squeal, drawing all surrounding attention to the four of them. 

Darren turns to the girls. “Leave us alone, please.” Darren pulls on Chris’ arm and they stumble further toward the start of the baggage carousel. 

When Chris and Darren are finally far enough away to not hear the idiotic giggling, Chris really can’t say he cares. He’s too caught up in the sparkle of Darren’s eyes and their playful back and forth to have any notice to spare on anyone else. 

“Oh, is that what all that was? I thought you were under the impression that I require mouth to mouth on a daily basis.” 

“Well, yeah. I need to keep up my hands-on practice to keep my certification current.” 

“Whatever, Darren.” Chris punches him in the arm. “You’re so stupid.” 

“Generally speaking, it’s better when the person I have a crush on likes me back. Right?” 

Chris stares blankly. _What?_

“You know that you’re my favorite.” 

“Stop it.” Chris’ cheeks are burning. It’s really freaking hot in Ireland. 

“Deny all you want. You know it’s true. And I’m pretty sure I’m your favorite, too. Come on, your bag’s gotta be there by now. You’re my Dublin roommate by the way.” Darren winks and walks up toward the carousel, leaving Chris to fend for his own thoughts. 

The next morning, with swollen lips and tortured cocks (okay, maybe that last part is just Chris), the boys get up and ready for their full day of sightseeing. They blow off everyone they know in an effort to keep the group down to just the two of them and when they finally succeed, they try to make a plan over a simple breakfast in the hotel lobby. Darren ultimately wins, convincing Chris that the Duck Boat river cruise is the only way to truly see as much of Dublin as possible in the short time they’re allowed. 

Chris can’t believe he eventually finds himself waiting on a bench in front of the most touristy spot there could ever be, waiting for the stupid Duck Boat, Darren sitting shamelessly on his lap. Chris tries hard to pretend that Darren doesn’t look almost hot in his stupid plastic Viking hat. 

He looks out over the water and grips at Darren’s waist tighter, taking mental stock of the insane month they’ve just lived through. 

“I can’t believe this is all over. I can’t even remember most of it.” 

“You can blame your insomnia and newfound vodka addiction for that.” Darren grins tucking the horned hat up underneath one arm and standing, stretching his legs, the sunshine bouncing off his face. He looks absolutely ethereal. 

“Whatever. I also wrote a book, thank you very much.” 

“Oh yes. Of course, my mistake. Never sleeping is completely justifiable and the dark circles actually look good on you. Better?” 

“Rude.” Chris purses his lips at Darren as if trying to weigh out the merits of forgiving him or not. “I’ll consider overlooking your disastrous mistake in words if you throw the damn hat into the river.” 

Darren grins and plops down again, this time comfortably next to Chris. “Sorry, Colfer, but these are memories to be made. On that note.” Darren slings one heavy arm around Chris’ neck and holds out his cell phone in front of their faces. Chris is dazed by the suddenness of the flash and the warm, stubble-covered cheek pressed up against his. 

“I hate you.” 

“You liar.” 

They board the boat and they’re told by a chipper heavily-accented tour guide to wait some more. 

“Alright, I’m bored.” 

“Why don’t you write more of that New York Times Bestseller while we wait to get started, hmm?” 

“Oh, please. Like my twisted little fairytale will ever see the light of day on the best seller's list.” 

Darren leans over to Chris and hums ‘Shake Your Tailfeather’ into the free duck beak kazoo each and every tourist received as part of the experience. Chris wants to die. He hangs his head and blushes before looking around to see if anyone’s watching. 

“My favorite thing about you is how embarrassed you are by me.” Darren says the next words in the stupidest Irish accent ever. “Luck o’ the draw, they say. Your friends are only a depiction of yourself.” 

Chris rolls his eyes. “I’m not embarrassed by you. I’m embarrassed _for_ you. You’re attracting the attention of these poor people who will forever remember you as the idiot with the hat.” 

“Like you didn’t squeal like a ten-year-old girl and buy out half the Buckingham Palace’s gift shop back in London.” 

“That is entirely different, Darren! That. Is history.” 

Darren just nods and stares at Chris with a tilted head and a soft smile. Oh. 

Chris blushes and looks down at his hands. Darren’s pretty much the only person he’s spent any amount of time with out here on tour; he’s the only person that Chris feels accepts him without an ounce of judgement. All of their other friends talk as a group, generally hang out together and drink after the shows, but Chris and Darren are never invited. It doesn’t matter, though. He’s having the time of his life with just Darren, feeling more normal than he has in years. 

Chris has always had issues with fitting in, with being genuinely liked. Old insecurities are the hardest to break. It’s always been in the back of his head that the other, older, cooler castmates of Glee only keep him around because it’d be awkward not to. Awards or not: to everyone, he’s the baby. The amateur. The cute face with the best luck when it comes to Ryan Murphy and the undeniable talent. It causes Chris to pull away, shut down. His talent isn’t undeniable. Some days he wakes up and wonders what in the hell he’s doing here instead of working at a Sacramento Starbucks. 

Darren’s been the one person to get through to Chris; the single one person who is able to drag Chris away from his made up worlds stored on his old laptop, and pull him into the sunlight. Without Darren, Chris would have seen nothing more on this trip than the stadium basements where he happened to find a working outlet to plug in his charger and the closed curtain of his bunk on the bus. 

Chris can actually be himself around Darren with no complexes and it’s an easy task at that. They’ve watched movies and Broadway bootlegs, stayed up all night joking and drinking and cuddling. They’ve talked, in depth, of the details and beliefs they share of the unpublished aspects of Hogwarts. If Chris was ever going to design the perfect person to share all of these unfathomable experiences with, it’d be someone dangerously similar to Darren. 

“What do you want to do after this?” Darren’s fluid voice in his ear snaps Chris out of his trance. 

Chris has thought about the thing that he’s wanted to do with Darren for the duration of the tour. He’s thought about the moment where everything could change for them. He’s talked himself into and out of saying anything for weeks. But the fact remains that his time is almost up. If he’s going to make a move and grab what he truly wants out of his friend Darren, it’s going to have to be tonight. 

“Hm. Do you think that we could go back to the hotel for a while? Take a break?” 

“Yeah. Sure. We could get delicious, authentic food from this one pub on the way back. Chuck said it’s right… on the way, I guess.” 

“Who’s Chuck?” 

“Oh! My older brother. He’s in a band. Have you heard of the Freelance Whales?” 

He takes a deep breath of river-scented air and smiles at Darren over his shoulder. “Can’t say that I have.” 

Darren talks animatedly and non-stop as they make their way through ancient and modern streets alike. Chris lets his mind wander. It’s easy to lose yourself in your own thoughts when the person who is overtaking them happens to be standing right next to you, with a gently guiding hand rest on the dip of your lower back. Chris doesn’t even know how long it’s been since he’s said anything until Darren’s hands grip onto his upper arms and stop his feet. 

“Huh?” His eyes blink rapidly as he takes in Darren’s appraising expression. 

“I said we’re here?” 

“Oh.” 

They’ve come to a stop outside a small brick-walled pub tucked into the very end of a block. There’s music and voices coming from inside the open door, but Darren doesn’t make a move to go inside. 

Darren’s smile is crooked, only partially screwing up his eyes in a way that makes Chris’ heartbeat skitter around all erratic. 

“Did your brother say what we’re supposed to get?” 

“If I know my brother it was mostly Irish beer and hot European girls, but that’s probably not what either of us are craving, huh?” 

“Mmm, no.” 

“Hey, you seem kinda far away. If you are mentally plotting another chapter of your inevitable worldwide bestseller, that’s one thing, but Chris, if you’re not into this and just want to head back…” 

“I want to be here with you!” Chris’ voice is so high and shrill that it makes his own ear cringe in protest. Every drop of blood in his body seems to rush into the capillaries in his face. Darren’s eyebrows jump up into the middle of his tanned forehead. “I mean, yeah. Let’s just get something the eat and then we can go.” 

Darren blinks. “Uh, yeah. Come on.” 

Even with Chris’ obvious distraction, Darren’s chatter and smile hold all the way through their meal. It’s a comfort, but also has the rather annoying side-effect of drawing Chris’ attention back to Darren’s lips. Chris spends a lot of time looking at the barely touched fish that he’s been moving around his plate. 

“...I don’t know. It just felt weird to go to a museum of stuff I could see anywhere else. Are you excited for the show tomorrow?” 

“Excited to survive it.” Chris’ nervousness about singing live every single night was a well known fact. He was the only person in the cast who still felt like he couldn’t deal with crippling self-doubt. 

Darren reaches over and plucks the fork out of Chris’ hand. His fingers are warm and the pads of them are rough from the hours they spent against metal strings, and instead of letting go, he laces their fingers together and holds on. 

“I hate when you do this to yourself. Chris, you are amazing out there and everyone watching you agrees every time. We’re all just left speechless every fucking night.” 

Chris tries to scoff away the tight feeling that rises up in his throat. “It comes as naturally as breathing to you, though. That’s just not how it is for me. I’m okay when I’m out there with everybody, or even just with you or Lea, but when I step out onto that stage by myself it’s the most terrifying feeling in the world. If that hasn’t changed by now, it’s probably not going to.” 

“Why are you so scared of what other people think of you?” 

Chris pulls his hand back slowly, he doesn’t miss the way Darren’s fingers seem to twitch like they’re fighting to hold onto their grip a moment longer. “High school. It’s nothing you haven’t heard before. Sad sob story of a little gay kid in a big scary world. Don’t worry about it.” The last thing he wants right now is Darren’s pity or for him to see him as some kind of child. It couldn’t be more counterproductive to Chris’ ultimate plan, really. But the genuine care in Darren’s eyes isn’t something Chris could ever turn away from. 

“Well, you’re showing all of them how incredible you can be despite what they bullied you for. It’s the biggest fuck you ever. And you are, Chris. You’re incredible. I can’t even believe that this is my life, being linked to you like I am in my own work. I don’t know who you think you are, getting an actual role written for you without any previous experience whatsoever.” 

Chris rolls his eyes, his smile full of teasing sarcasm. “That’s why you hang out with me, huh? I’ll help jumpstart your career or whatever?” Chris laughs but it’s not really that funny. It’s exactly what he thinks when he allows himself to enter that mindspace. 

“Why can’t you just accept that I really enjoy spending time with you? You’re my favorite, Colfer. I told you.” 

The thing was, Chris does believe him. He’s never seen anyone with eyes as sincere as Darren’s, and in this business, it’s a notable and rare trait. For whatever unthinkable reason, Darren actually does gravitate more towards him than anyone else in their bright and colorful cast of characters: guys Darren rightfully should have more in common with, girls who look like they could be stepping off a runway. Regardless, Chris believes it and he’s kind of counting on it for later. 

“I am still trying to pin down your exact motivation. You’re still the new guy and on my personal probationary period.” 

“I don’t know about you, but where I come from, I’m taught to do what I want. And I want to hang out with you, so that’s what I do.” Darren shrugs. “Put me on your probationary period all you want. I’m winning this one and we’re going to know each other forever.” Darren turns serious for a minute, opening his mouth to say something more but closing it just as quickly. 

That makes Chris laugh out loud, causing the other tourists and locals sitting around the darkened pub to stare. 

“What?” Darren’s face lights up, clearly surprised by Chris’ reaction. 

The simple idea that someone like Darren would even have anything to do with a guy like him outside of the abstract Wonderland of the show is laughable and absurd. “We wouldn’t exactly run in the same circles outside of work, Darren. I’m sure this show will get one more season at best. You know these things always go downhill after the second year.” 

“Alright. Come the fuck on, Christopher. Your insecurities are too endearing for me and you’re too adorable and frankly, I want to ruin the rest of the night with my tongue in your mouth. Are you done?” 

That, he is always ready for. “Think what you will, just don’t count on any job security.” 

“I’m not looking for job security.” 

“Let’s go.” 

“I’m looking for lasting relationships, and if I got to be Blaine Anderson for a year while I found a few, then so be it.” Darren rises to his feet, throws down some American cash obviously hoping for the best that they’ll accept it instead of the Euro he ran out of, and holds out his elbow for Chris to latch onto. 

“Guess we’re all looking to get different things out of all this, huh?” Chris can’t restrain a tiny, hopeful grin from creeping up onto the edges of his lips as they make their way out of the pub and back towards their hotel. 

Some fans have found them and they wait in the lobby. The shrieks are deafening and all Chris wants to do is go upstairs and convince Darren to sleep with him. But Darren’s already twenty feet toward the crowd and Chris does not feel in any way capable of dealing with this. Especially not now. Chris is positive he would have attempted to use the inch and a half he’d gained on Darren in height to throw the other man bodily over his shoulder and drag him away from the cluster of heavily perfumed, manicured teenage girls if it wasn’t for the way Darren’s eyes lit up when he speaks with his fans. Chris lets himself get caught up in the tide long enough to sign a few tour books and smile stiffly through three or four uncomfortable photos, mainly because he can’t just stand there while Darren charms the pants off these girls. 

“Darren.” Chris moves closer to Darren’s side after a few minutes of pictures and autographs, lowering his voice for the sake of their hard-won privacy. “Dare, please. Can we go upstairs?” 

“Thanks for coming out, guys. We’ll see you tomorrow night!” Darren looks at Chris to wordlessly communicate to follow and heads toward the elevators. He presses the button and twirls around to look at Chris. “I’ll never get used to that feeling. It’s so fucking cool.” 

“There is no getting used to that.” Chris knows his voice is tinged with bitterness due to the bubble of nervous anxiety he feels any time he has to deal with groups of pushy fans on his own. Darren’s heaven is his own personal hell. 

“Okay, babe. Relax. We’re alone now.” Darren brushes his fingertips along Chris’ forearm and steps into the waiting elevator. “Still wanna make out?” 

Chris closes his eyes, more from the feeling of Darren’s fingers on his skin than any attempt to calm himself down. There wasn’t much of a chance of that happening whenever Darren was touching him. “I… could probably be persuaded. If you try hard enough.” 

The kissing, the playful touching for the sake of fun is something the two of them have gotten very good at on this trip. No one had been more surprised than Chris the first time Darren had pressed his smiling mouth to his and kissed him soundly as they were laying around and enjoying a movie one night in Chris’ small apartment all those months ago. He’s never had anyone been so free with affection and intimacy as Darren is. Chris chalks it up to something special inside his genetic makeup or general San Francisco upbringing. He doesn’t understand it, but he’s infinitely glad it exists…. and wants even more of that than he’s ever had before. 

“Are you okay?” Darren tilts his head and looks straight into Chris’ face. 

Chris’ smile is all nerves and brightly lit cheeks when he slides his arm around Darren’s and pecks a tiny kiss against the corner of his downturned mouth. “Let’s just get to the room.” 

Darren nods and follows him down the hall. Chris shakes his hips a little more than usual. Hopefully it’ll help nudge Darren along into the direction Chris wants this night to go in. 

The door slides shut, closing them off into the darkness of the empty hotel room. Darren’s wide hands bracket Chris’ hips immediately, shoving him up against the wall. Their mouths meet in a sloppy misalignment of lips and tongue until the first of hopefully many quiet whimpers escape out of Chris’ throat. He can’t deny that Darren certainly knows what the hell he’s doing in the kissing department. Chris turns, walking them backwards, pulling Darren with him towards one of the identical double beds without coming up for air. 

“God, Chris. You are going to kill me.” Darren openly adjusts his cock and smirks while doing so. 

Chris’ eyes widen as he watches Darren, his knees weaken and he suddenly has to pull away just for a second. It isn’t the first time he’s seen Darren get hard, it isn’t even the first time that he’s caused it, but this is the first time he’s actually appreciated the sight while knowing he has every intention of using Darren’s cock as a tool to make them both come their brains out. 

He licks his sandpaper lips. Now or never. He inches in closer to Darren’s body and kisses him again. “I want you. Darren, I-” The words clog up in this throat and he worries that he’ll pass out right then and there, praying Darren won’t ask him to say it again. 

Darren moves to straddle Chris’ body and hovers when Chris’ voice rushes out into the small space between their faces. 

“I want you.” 

Darren is silent, still, frozen with one knee on the edge of the mattress and the other still firmly planted on the floor. His gaze is locked onto Chris’ face, eyes quickly moving back and forth as he tries to stare into both of Chris’ undoubtedly wild eyes at once. 

“Say something, Dare.” 

“I…” Darren’s voice is deep and shot through with uncharacteristic unsuredity. He seems to have lost the capacity for proper mental or motor function. 

Chris tries to turn over and away from Darren, but he’s still hovering. Instead, Chris closes his eyes. “Nevermind. I get it.” 

Darren lays flat across the length of Chris’ body and kisses into his hair. “No! Not nevermind! Just… shit, Chris. Give me a second to process the words that just came out of your mouth, okay?” 

“You’ll… you’ll do it?” 

Darren lets out a gust of breath that seems to deflate his entire chest. It’s then that Chris notices how out of control and wild his eyes look now too. Darren pulls himself up and sits at the foot of the bed. “ _It_ as in… what exactly? You really need to tell me what the boundaries are here, babe. Because I am… _fuck_.” 

Chris follows. “That’s sort of it, yeah.” 

Darren looks at him confused and maybe a little terrified himself. If that’s the mutual feeling of the night. 

Chris gathers up every shred of confidence that he’s managed to regain in all of his nineteen years. He takes Darren’s hand in his, rubbing lines across his knuckles. “I, uh, want to, to fuck you.” The words feel like burning lead leaving his lips. “If that’s something you would want me to do.” 

“Yeah. Give me a minute though? I need to… make sure everything is. Um, I’ll be right back okay?” Darren flies off the bed and beelines it to the bathroom on the other side of the hotel room. 

Chris’ mind barely has time to soak up the words and send all of the blood in his body racing towards his cock before Darren literally runs away from him and disappears behind the bathroom door. He’s left half-sitting-half-lying on the edge of Darren’s bed with a racing heart, half hard erection, and a head full of a rushing noise like waves crashing onto the shoreline. 

“Okay.” His voice is a small squeak and he knows there is no way in hell Darren will be able to hear through the door and over the sound of the running water Chris can hear from inside the bathroom. “Okay, okay.” He pushes himself up into a more dignified position and runs a trembling hand across his face. This is as far out of his comfort zone as he’s ever been, and imagining this moment a hundred times in the privacy of his own shower has done nothing to prepare him for the riot of emotions surging through him now that it’s actually happening. And with Darren. _Darren_. 

When Darren finally returns, he’s shirtless and with only boxers-briefs on, his underwear allowing a strip of pubic hair to pop against the waistline, a hand covering his stomach. He looks like Adonis in the way he would if he were a nerd Chris is falling for. 

Chris wants to touch and taste everything, but he also kind of wants to fall over face-first into the blankets and hide his embarrassingly burning cheeks for the next year and a half. Despite how nervous he is, he settles on a shaky _hi_ and stands up. He stalks across the room to where Darren is just watching him with a thoughtful look written across his face. 

“Do I need to ask you if you’re sure about this? I’m trying to be the mature, nice, responsible one even if I really don’t fucking want to.” 

“I’m sure, Darren.” Chris smiles at him and openly checks him out, brushing a hand down from Darren’s clavicle to his hip. “Are you sure?” 

Darren’s laugh is the same one Chris hears every day on set and every night in his dreams, effortless and light. “You’re actually asking me if _I_ want to sleep with you? You’re the most interesting, hottest guy I’ve ever laid eyes on. Yeah. I’m sure.” 

Chris giggles. “Laid.” 

Darren’s lips twitch to one side, and then he’s sliding his arms around Chris’ waist, roughly pulling him towards his body. “You’re going to need to not be so damn cute if I’m going to be able to get through this in one piece.” 

“Okay. Well, I’ll start by inviting you to this bed?” Chris waves his hands in the same way Vanna White might when one buys a vowel and oh my God, Chris is about to lose his virginity and he’s thinking of Vanna White. “Um, don’t we have some… precautions to take? Although, they tend to skip this part in the porn so clearly I don’t know a lot about it.” Chris feels his face go impossibly mortified at the thought of just how much… _research_ he’s done for this moment over the years. So many browser histories to empty. So much Harry Potter himself bottoming below an eager Draco. Ironic as hell, honestly. He can’t think about that right now. 

“Oh, I’ve... Uh, I’ve spared you that part.” Darren’s grin and voice are almost proud at the confession. Like he’s saved them both time and they can get right to it.

“You... “ Chris realizes what he means with a sharp intake of breath. _Oh, God_. He has to clench his eyes closed for a second to force himself to stay in the moment and on track instead of allowing himself to try to picture the image of Darren in the bathroom choosing to prepare himself for Chris to be able to be inside of him. A tiny ripple of _disappointment_ leaks it’s way into the visual. “Oh, yeah, okay. I just always thought that was part of it, you know? I mean, part of taking care of you.” He realizes how pathetically young and inexperienced he sounds (and that he _is_ ) and tries to cover it up with fumbling hands that move to start working the buttons of his own shirt. “I guess I was sort of looking…” Chris coughs. _Um_. “I was looking forward to that part.” 

“I just thought that I’d be able to know how much… um. I’m all set, but you can make sure?" 

Chris freezes with his shirt only halfway undone. He's always heard that sex is unavoidably awkward, and clearly he isn't going to be any type of exception to the rule. He thought that maybe by choosing someone like Darren, who Chris knows is considerably laidback and at ease with himself and his sexuality in a way that Chris will most likely never be, that he might be able to get out of some of that sort of discomfort. No such luck. 

He refuses to meet Darren's eyes as he works through the suddenly complicated process of getting rid of his shirt. "It's just... that seems like something I'm going to need to know how to do. To someone else, I mean. And since we're doing this now and I trust you, I just thought that..." Chris turns back around and finds Darren still standing in the exact same spot he had been before, looking impossibly gorgeous in a simple pair of boxers. _Bastard._ Chris needs to stop talking before Darren changes his mind about all of this. "I'm making this weird. I’m shutting up.." 

Darren steps up behind him, and slides a slow, much steadier hand up the length of Chris' now bared back. Even that touch is enough to halt the breath in Chris’ chest; this should scare him. "Chris, you're not making anything weird here. I am so fucking flattered, amazed actually, to hear that you trust me like this. Whatever you want this to be, whatever you wanna do, we'll do." Chris has to close his eyes again to the feeling of Darren's lips against the bony rise of one shoulder. ”If that's something you want to try with me, I definitely have no complaints about it." 

“What if there are things I want to do to you?” _Oh God._

Darren’s breath is hot against Chris’ ear and he feels the slightest slick scrape of teeth when he chuckles quietly. “Well, then I guess we’re in for a wild ride.” 

Chris nods and reflexively wipes his sweaty hands off on the thighs of his jeans. It feels like someone had come along and cranked the heat up in the room by a few hundred degrees when he wasn’t watching. With Darren standing there in his underwear having just agreed to have sex with him, not paying attention to insignificant details is a distinct possibility. “A-as long as you understand in advance that I am definitely going to be horrible. Not that I’m trying to talk you out of it or anything! Because- no. But sometimes I’m not the best at things on the first few tries, more practice and less trial by fire.” Chris has the sudden impulse to cover his own mouth with his hand to keep himself from babbling nonsense, but something told him that would only make the situation even more personally humiliating. 

Darren tilts his head and smiles sweetly. “I have an inkling you’ll be more than mind blowing for me, but if not… well. Practice makes perfect, and I’ll tell you right now that I’m willing to practice.” 

“Did you seriously just use the word inkling? And here I am having an internal breakdown over the fact that I thought _I_ was the one not cool enough to be in the room. Maybe this is all just-” Chris’ eyes feel wide, manic, like he’s a psycho serial killer about to have his very first mental breakdown. 

“Chris?” Darren steps to him and rests his palms on Chris’ shoulders. “Breathe, babe. I will walk you through it. You’re not going to hurt me.” 

That brings Chris up short. He blinks his eyes back toward Darren with a steady surety he hasn’t shown all night. “That’s not... I know. That’s the last thing I want to do.” 

“Okay.” Darren sits down and stares up at him. “What else do we need to talk about?” 

Chris takes a deep breath and folds his arms over his exposed chest. He knows he’s grown, he isn’t the scrawny kid who came to LA a year and a half ago. And while that’s true, he still isn’t the most comfortable with how his body looks and he tries to hide it whenever possible. Something tells him that isn’t going to work right now. “We’ll be safe about everything. Obviously, right? I think I have everything we’d need in my bathroom bag.” 

Darren nods. “I do too. It’s so hot that you’re prepared.” He smiles, clearly trying to get a rise out of him. 

Chris groans and drops down to sit on the bed next to him, rubbing at his hair with a sheepish grin. “There’s nothing hot about it. I paced the aisles at this little pharmacy back in London for almost an hour. I think they thought I was going to rob the place. It was awful.” 

“London? Is that when you-” 

Chris realizes that he just handed Darren a timeline of his feelings toward him and cringes, wanting nothing more but to _stop fucking speaking jumble._ “You knew you wanted to ask me since London? I mean… I know that’s only one tour stop ago, but. _Chris._ ” 

Chris fixes his eyes on the tight weave pattern of the bland, beige hotel room carpet beneath their feet. “It was before that. We’ve been flirting and making out for a while now and… Well, I figured you probably wouldn’t be _completely_ opposed to the idea. It’s sort of a tough discussion to just launch into, though. I needed time to figure it all out. It took me nearly six weeks to go through with buying condoms.” 

“You torture me, Colfer. Do you know that? Every waking moment.” 

Chris rolls his eyes and glances over at Darren with plain disbelief pinching in his eyes. “Yeah, sure. You’re the one who acts like he’s about half in love with everyone.” 

“It’s different with you.” 

Chris’ smile is a shaky trembling thing, but his eyes hold a tiny note of confidence when he nods and tries to tell himself that he hasn’t already ruined any chance he ever had of having anything happen between them tonight aside from a highly embarrassing story to go around on set. Which he trusts Darren not to spill anyway.

Darren grins. “Okay. Hold that thought.” He launches himself across the room and into the bathroom, returning quickly with a small bottle of lube, a third of it gone, and a long strip of condoms. Darren is obviously trying to be nonchalant about readjusting his cock, but Chris catches it and smirks. 

Chris watches as Darren approaches the bed again, moving his own body backwards, his back up against the plethora of pillows, to make room for Darren while he crawls toward him on the mattress. 

“You do still want-” 

“Yeah.” 

“Even if I’m awkward and inexperienced and have-” 

“Yep.” 

“I need to make it very clear that I honestly don’t have a damn clue what I’m-” 

“ _Chris._ ” Darren reaches out and grabs the back of Chris’ neck with one strong hand. “I’m not going to say yes again. It’s not a science and we don’t have to be perfect, okay? I just want to do this. With _you_.” Soft lips peck chaste kisses against the corners of Chris’ mouth. “Want me to strip for you?” 

Chris rolls his eyes and surges into Darren’s whole body for a fierce kiss instead of answering his question, hoping to everything he is that this provides an answer just fine. He slams his tongue through Darren’s lips and allows himself to draw on the few skills he has already perfected in enticing Darren to groan and writhe against him. 

Darren breaks it quickly, breathing heavy and looking at Chris like he’s about ready for a snack. “Okay, wait.” Darren kicks his boxers off and throws them to the floor. “Wait. Let me…” Darren slips his thumbs between Chris’ boxers, padding along the tight skin covering his hip bones, searching all the while for some kind of eye contact. “This okay?” 

Chris nods his head, faster than could be considered normal in any other circumstance. Maybe okay wasn’t the right word for what he was, but _ready to have sex with Darren_ wasn’t too far off. 

“Okay.” Before Chris can do much to react, Darren nods to himself, and then strips him of his pants and boxers all in one blow, apparently mesmerized by the sight, then stepping back off the bed and just… looking. He kneels back over him just as quickly and sucks lightly on the right side of Chris’ neck, directly below his ear. “Yeah?” Darren nibbles on Chris’ neck, the saliva drying into a freezing pleasure. Darren’s hands travel downward and before Chris knows it, they are grasping his cock like a bottle of water and squeezing at the base as if it will crackle and pop with the release of oxygen. 

Chris can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do much of anything. He was just trying to prepare himself for sight and now? Now, he is drowning in an ocean of touch and feel and overwhelming emotion. Darren’s grip is warm and tight around him. It’s not the first time Chris has had another guy’s hand on his dick; there were a few random guys at parties who seemed pretty enough and more than willing after he’d sneaked a cocktail or six. But none of those men were Darren. And now he knows that fact makes all the difference. His head lolls back on his shoulders with a quiet whimper. 

“Shit, Chris. You’re so beautiful.” Darren grinds his naked cock into Chris’ and the touch absolutely electrifies.

It’s an unimaginable sensation of heat, thick tension, something else that’s full of some sort of feeling he’d been, up until this point, completely unaware of its existence. Chris’ jaw opens wide and he consciously moans the deepest, most sexual, most porn-like sound he’s ever felt vibrating out of his own mouth. _Shit, God. It feels so good._

“Feels so good, Darren. Too good. Don’t do too much of...” 

Darren’s teeth are back, this time biting along the tendon in Chris’ left shoulder that Chris has caught him, more than once, gaping at when Chris wore tank tops to rehearsal. 

“Want you, Colfer. Want you so bad. Please. C’mere.” Darren tears a condom open with his teeth and spits out the corner of the wrapper trapped in his mouth. He stealthily rolls it onto Chris’ cock and pumps a few times to get the fit, before squirting the lube onto his hand, warming it, and stroking Chris’ cock a few more times. Chris feels Darren’s strong hands come around the back of his neck and then he’s being pulled down and to lie on top of Darren’s body. Darren’s hands scratch at the nape of Chris’ neck, smiling, grinning, fucking loving on the open-mouthed kiss they share yet again. 

Darren breaks it and pushes his head further into the pillow to look at Chris. “I’m ready, are you ready?” 

Words are a feat far beyond him right now, so Chris lets his hands map out each side of Darren’s ribs and nods when they settle on the natural curve of his waist.

Darren reaches in and takes Chris’ cock in his hand, lining it up with his stretched hole. “Keep that angle and push inside when you’re ready. Try to make it a fluid movement until you can’t go anymore. And then just wait. Wait for me.” Darren creeps his legs out from under Chris’ body and wraps them around his waist. Chris feels two heels locking right around the small of his back. 

The feeling of himself against the softened rim of Darren’s ass threatens to make Chris come then and there. He pushes forward ever so carefully, so not to rip or tear or destroy. His chin is digging into his chest; he needs to see his own cock begin to disappear into Darren’s body as he presses through the resistance of the first then second ring of muscle. Eventually, the entire head is lodged all the way inside and frankly, he doesn’t think he could breathe even if he wanted to. It doesn’t feel like he thought it would... the tight squeeze feeling more like a clenching fist than the smooth glide he was expecting. Chris doesn’t want to admit to the noises he feels pouring out of his throat, although he can’t hear anything over the rush of the ocean in his ears. 

Darren whimpers and stays especially still throughout Chris’ intrusion. “Uh. Fuck, you are huge. God, Chris.” 

Chris grits his teeth as he adjusts his body’s weight to press forward into Darren. “I’m well within the national average. Trust me, I checked.” His voice is laced with a high-pitched whine on the vowel sounds. 

“Hey, Colfer.” Darren lifts his head and kisses him. “You’re not a virgin! Show me what havoc you can cause on my body, baby.” 

Darren’s eyes are telling a story of their own; they roll to the back of his head and clench shut. Chris feels like _this_ could have been what he’s been waiting for after all this time. 

It’s a slow, hollowing moment, as Chris moves to push himself deeper inside while Darren whines and writhes, seemingly losing his mind pinned underneath him. When he finally bottoms out, his head falls forward, sweat already beading up along his face and shoulders, with a guttural moan that comes straight from his stomach. “Fuck.” 

Darren cries out a scream of a singing, perfectly tuned, complete with an actual key change moan and Chris thinks that he’s probably exactly what a hooker would sound like. “Fuck me, Chris. _Please._ In and out, and keep a rhythm.” 

Chris nods, fighting to keep from asking Darren if he’s hurting him, but from the way that Darren starts rolling his own hips and grips the trembling muscles of Chris’ upper arms, Chris guesses that it’s not a concern. He begins a slow half in and out pace, thrusting forward harder than he actually intends just because his body seems to know what it wants outside of what his mind is attempting to control and process. It’s overwhelming and dangerously uncontrollable and wildly perfect. 

“Shit… oh my God… you’re so… fuck…” Darren’s cock is hitting against his stomach with every ruthless thrust and it’s entirely pornographic in a way Chris never knew to be so turned on by until this day. He wants to see just this for… a very long time. 

He fumbles one hand downwards toward where he can feel Darren’s cock sliding against his body. “Do- do I need to?” His fingers wrap loosely around the bulging red shaft of Darren’s slippery wet erection as he tries not to lose the slow rhythm of his own hips. It’s a lot to keep track of at once. 

“Yes! God, Chris… yeah, and curve your body, hover it over just a little into mi-ine…” 

“Curve, yeah. Okay.” Chris sets his knees wider apart and begins to move over the panting body below him with quicker, forcing strokes. Darren is everywhere at once and the sounds and smell of them both fill the air like a thick mist that makes the air in Chris’ lungs fill thin. The change is so miniscule, maybe a ten percent angle difference, but holy actual shit, that’s the best thing Chris has ever... 

“Find my… baby, shit! Fuck! Uh huh...” 

Chris’ eyes go wide and his thrusts flatten, thicken, become more when Darren’s back arches up off the bed a couple of inches, still buried as far inside his ass as physically possible. 

“Oh, was…” 

“Yes! But don’t _stop_! Jesus.” 

Squirming like a freaking fish out of water, Darren screams out with no voice and shakes uncontrollably. He’s blurring into himself and becoming one with the bed as if it’s the most natural thing to do. He shoots like a fountain, an impressive amount making a mess of a bed that’s not theirs. Darren comes down, his bones lie limp in the bedframe, his shadow escaping into the dark of the night. “Oh my _shit_ , Chris. Never in my life...” 

The hand Chris has wrapped around Darren’s cock that was stroking stops erratically, but that doesn’t seem to stop anyone from whimpering sounds from another world. Darren rolls his hips in tiny circles, clearly to keep at Chris until he gets what he needs from the experience, too. 

“Keep going. Need you to come.” Darren clenches around the tightness of Chris’ cock and raises an eyebrow. It’s the sexiest thing Chris has ever seen. Felt. Been a part of. 

Chris catches Darren’s open mouth with a sloppy kiss again, mostly to mask his own unsteady breath. He knows he can’t hold off much longer, so he tries not to. He redoubles his efforts, still clumsily stroking Darren’s softening cock in time with the deep thrusts into his ass until he feels Darren tear his mouth away and cry out. When he feels the first smears of hot, sticky mess inside the condom, he actually grins with a shaking groan that rattles his rib cage from the inside out. 

“Darren! Fucking shit!” He comes like a string of light carrying him straight on into heaven, like he can do anything else now and for the rest of his life and it won’t compare. Falling heavily onto Darren’s body with an _oof_ , he lies on his human pillow trying with everything inside him to even out his breathing. Underneath him, Darren is apparently attempting exactly the same thing but Darren’s the one with more finesse, if he can kiss Chris’ temple and calm down at the same time. 

“Do I… pull out, now?” 

“Or just stay right where you are for the rest of your fucking life, Colfer. _Shit._ ” 

Chris’ forehead rolls back and forth across the sharp shape of Darren’s collar bone with a quiet laugh. “I’m supposed to, uh, clean us up now.” 

Darren’s responding laugh is a seemingly elated squeak. “Okay, these supposed rules that you think should happen? Yeah, I’m pretty sure they don’t exist. There are some common courtesies, I guess, but that is all shit you pick up along the way. All in good time, my sweet.” 

Chris rolls his eyes. “Okay. That’s fine. But I’m not lying in a wet spot of our come and sweat just because you’re the laziest person I ever met.” Chris pulls away from the warmth of Darren’s body, the task feeling like it reverses the will of gravity. He mindlessly kisses a reddened spot on Darren’s hip that Chris was fairly sure he’d made with his thumb. “I’ll just…” 

Darren grins, Chris is convinced he’s an actual puppy, and he eases back, extracting himself from the bed before the other man has a chance to actually lick his face. 

Chris has spent countless hours in dance rehearsals and his body has never felt anywhere near as weak and uncoordinated as he does in this moment, making his way across the ten feet of space to the bathroom. Darren’s eyes on his body is a physical sensation that Chris can feel raking over his skin like the brush of a hand. 

Getting rid of a used, full condom is not the most pleasant experience Chris has ever had, but he manages without any truly embarrassing mishaps and tosses it into the trash. Leaving off the bathroom light, he makes it a point not to look at himself in the mirror as he runs the warm water in the sink. He scrubs at his face and then wets a washcloth under the tap. 

Darren is still lying in exactly the same spot and position that he had been, shamelessly naked and even more beautiful with the echo of pleasure all over his body. 

“You are going to have to move. I’m so not sleeping there.” 

Darren spreads his legs and arms out, as if he’s swimming in their mess. Chris sighs and pulls at Darren’s limp arms, effectively getting him to rise and bend to sit up. 

“C’mere.” Chris sits down next to Darren on the edge of the bed and wipes at his stomach, cock, the tops of his thighs. Then, and only then, does he focus on himself before tossing the dirtied cloth wherever it may land. “Your bed’s still clean.” 

They move slowly over and under the covers of the still neatly made bed right next to the one Chris _lost his virginity_ in.

Darren curls into Chris’ body and runs his fingertips up and down lateral planes. “Are you okay?” Darren looks up at Chris’ face and smiles, closing his eyes and lowering his head two seconds later. 

“I’m great, Dare. Thank you.”

“Mhm. Maybe I’ve turned you into a sex addict. Maybe we can do this again?” Darren’s voice is sleep-ridden and exhausted. 

Chris grins and stretches his tired legs underneath the sheets. _Single Ladies_ was probably going to hurt like a bitch tomorrow night. “Maybe.” 

“Did you enjoy yourself, then?” 

It was the understatement that spawned all understatements and Chris has to choke down a hysterical giggle. “I did, yeah. I…” His mind tells him to weigh the repercussions of what he’s about to say next, but the endorphin high in his body is all consuming and overrides any rational sense. “I’m really glad it was you. It feels like this was the right thing for me to do.” He glances down at where Darren is cuddled up along the side of his body to gauge his reaction. “Does that sound weird?” 

“It sounds…” Darren yawns tall and wide. “It sounds like that was probably the best thing I’ve ever heard you say.” He nuzzles his face against the soft, barely there light brown hair scattered across Chris’ chest. “If you’d told me I sucked in bed, that would have been a real downer, by the way. I would have hated to be a disappointment.” 

“You were… the most thrilling, exciting fuck I have ever had.” 

“I’m the only fuck you’ve ever had.” 

“Semantics.” 

“Mhm.” 

“Get some rest, honey.” 

“I cannot wait to see the rest of this transformation you’re going through.” 

Chris snorts and lifts one hand to play with Darren’s sweaty curls that have stuck to the back of his neck. “You act like I’m about to grow a tail. Growing taller than you isn’t exactly _that_ big of an accomplishment.” 

“Yooooo, if your cock was coming out of your tailbone, you’d so have a tail.” 

“If that happened, I think I’d end up on a completely different kind of show, idiot.” Chris smothers a yawn against his own shoulder with a drowsy grin, sweet, syrup slow lethargy beginning to seep through his veins. 

“I’d watch it. Christopher Paul Colfer, the man with the tail. I’m in!” 

Chris feels as Darren’s arm is slung low over his waist and he settles against him heavily. 

“‘Night, Colfer.” 

Chris sighs and decides to use the last of the high he has running through his body to speak honestly. It the conversation goes badly, he can always blame it on the post-orgasmic stupor in the morning. “My feelings for you are very... complicated. I don’t really know what to think right now, but I’m glad we’re here together.” 

“You act like you’re never going to see me again. I hate to tell you, but I’ve been offered a multi-year contract. And now that I know what you’re hiding in those tight ass pants of yours, well…” 

“Wait! Really? I don’t even have a multi-year contract yet!” 

Darren props his head up on one fist and looks down at Chris with a honey-eyed sleepy grin. “What can I say? I’m just good like that. But seriously, when we get back in a couple of days, we’re going to see each other, right? Until filming starts back in a month, I mean. You should just save yourself the time and say yes now. I know where you live and I’m fully capable of hunting you down.” 

Chris grins and knocks the arm Darren has propped up underneath his chin away. “Stalker. Now I’ll have to move.” 

“Promise me now. This isn’t going to become one of those tricky, tense _we had sex and now we try to avoid each other_ situations. That would suck and make me sad, and I don’t like to be sad, Colfer.” 

Darren’s ridiculous sad puppy face makes Chris giggle out loud. “Well, you just said you know where I live, we work together, so unless you’re suddenly unwilling to be seen with me, I can’t see how that would be a problem.” 

Darren shoves his entire body upwards to catch Chris’ lips in a loud, smacking kiss. “I just don’t see that happening.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly reminder that the below videos canonly fit into the day after this one shot.
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> [Dublin 2011 Kiss](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wqUkThknuPg)
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> [Dublin 2011 Single Ladies](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PLAdPxApbug)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one with the kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that we haven't posted in a few days. We've been a little... cough... consumed with ideas of the big things planned for the future of this verse. Enjoy a little fluffy early!Crisscolfer as Chris and Darren get to know each other a little better in the weeks before the Glee Live tour.

The vodka is flowing to the point where no one in Chris’ West Hollywood living room can really see straight. Everyone is sprawled out on throw pillows and couch cushions on the floor and there’s a Broadway playlist blaring over the stereo system his parents gifted him as an apartment-warming gift. People are singing along at the top of their lungs. They’re having a drunken mess of a dinner-turned-wrap-party but it’s okay because these are his friends now and Chris is finally happy. He actually, truly, seriously has _work friends_ \- people who are choosing to spend time with him on a Friday night while not getting paid for it and he can’t really wrap his head around it. Someone (probably Jenna) shuffles the playlist to _La Vie Boheme_ and they act out the whole song with whatever props Chris’ Craigslist-compiled living room can offer. Darren naturally takes the role of Mark and Chris takes Angel’s lines while the others pair off and scatter into their Rent stereotypes and all is right in the world. When it’s his turn to shine, he sings about Maya Angelou with Naya and catches Darren’s eye watching him, and for the moment everything is perfect. He wants to go back to himself from two years ago and slap that Chris in the face for even speculating a bitter end. None of this would be happening without him here at all.

Darren rubs his body against Chris when Cory screams “everybody dance!” and Chris is sure he can’t feel his legs. The neighbors downstairs bang on the ceiling, the group dances harder, and eventually the song does end and _Chris’ friends_ are gathered all around him, laughing and cheap vodka-flushed, calmed and coming down from the high of the impromptu party. 

Chris sprawls down on the chaise of his second hand couch, just observing because he can. There are a few people out on the balcony that comes standard with all shoebox-sized LA apartments, others are gathered around his makeshift kitchen table that acts as the bar now, the rest piled into a group on his throw pillows they spread out on the floor. They’re all welcome to stay; everyone here has to be at work basically down the street anyway in just a few hours, but they’ll have to fight for the one air mattress Chris has to spare for when Hannah comes to visit.

He can’t believe season two is already over and that they start tour rehearsals _tomorrow._ Chris never thought this life would ever be possible, but here he is - living the life he deserves, traveling the world with his best friends and getting fat paychecks he can save all the while.

Darren bounces toward him and sits half on his lap, yanking him completely from his _pinch me_ train of thought. “Colfer!”

“I hate that I can’t respond to you with your last name because then it just…” Chris waves his hands around. “Seems like I’m talking to myself.”

“I know what you mean. It’s such a tragedy… _Colfer_. Hey, can I camp out here for the night? Early call and you live so close. Like seriously, so fucking close, I might just grab my shit and move in.”

Chris laughs. “Yeah! Yeah, of course.” Chris clears his throat. “I’d claim this couch right now though. If I were you. The floor probably sucks and you know the girls are going to find the air mattress.”

“I’ll do you one better, babe. What if... I slept in your room?”

“Oh. I guess Golden Boy does need his beauty rest before showing the lot of us mere mortals how it’s done tomorrow. Right?” He hopes to everything holy that his blush could be passed off for too much alcohol, not enough water.

“Your ass is actually going to make that stupid nickname stick, aren’t you? Not cool, Colfer.”

Chris smiles and shrugs. If the slipper fits. “‘m tired. Can we-”

“Yeah. Let’s go. We all have to be there at the same time, right?”

“Ugh. Seven-thirty.”

“Good! We’ll ride in together.” Darren rises to his feet and holds out a hand for Chris, who takes it and intertwines their fingers... vodka makes him do crazy things. 

The room feels still, eerily quiet all the sudden, betraying the fact that that their every movement is being watched. Chris glances behind him as he’s being pulled into his own bedroom and sees his friends snickering knowingly, as though they’re clearly about to go have sex in the other room. Lea is giving him that mom look and Amber is nodding excitedly. Ashley is scowling. He doesn’t know exactly who will stay and who will leave, but with Darren’s fingers tangled with his, he finds that he doesn’t particularly care.

Darren turns and follows Chris’ line of sight, rolling his eyes. “Honestly? Fuck off, guys. You’re just jealous. See your sorry asses in the morning.”

Chris offers up a brand new toothbrush from under the sink and they domestically brush their teeth together, staring at the mirror, Chris pointedly looking anywhere but at Darren. He needs to Windex his mirror again. He decides it’s time to spit and give Darren some room, but Darren still shoves him further out of his way, winking at him through the streaky mirror. They rinse and climb into Chris’ single occupancy bed together without a glance in the other’s direction.

“Tomorrow’s going to be rough.”

“Just go to sleep, loser.” Chris turns away from Darren, honestly terrified to get too close. He can’t think too seriously about what he’s doing right now in the same bed as Darren. It’s too much on his alcohol-afflicted mind.

“Chris.” Darren turns and threads his arm around Chris’ waist shyly, as if touching Chris is going to burn him. His arm settles heavily and so does the thick air between them. Darren props his chin up on Chris’ shoulder. “Do you ever think about what it would be like for Kurt if he never found Blaine?”

And Chris feels like he dies right then and there. He feels his skin’s heat rising into a feverish kind of embarrassment. His stomach is so soft and unattractive, and now Darren is literally rubbing his biggest insecurity. 

“Not really. I mean, I know exactly what it would have been like for Kurt if he hadn’t found a boyfriend. That part of Kurt is based off of my own sad life-story.”

“That’s not true.”

“ _Glee_ is partly autobiographical, Dare. They pick at whatever old scabs you have and find a way to dig around inside there. You’ll see. You’re still too new to figure that one out.”

“Well, I think you… and hopefully, Kurt… are going to have a very pleasant happy ending with someone very special, Christopher. I’ll even go as far to bet that you’re already so much more well off than any of those losers back home.”

Chris huffs. “You were mister popular in high school, weren’t you? Harry freakin’ Potter in college…”

Darren shrugs. “All of that doesn’t really matter now. I still… struggle to be liked by others.”

“Bullshit! Everyone is obsessed with you. If I had an ounce of your confidence-”

“It’s a front most of the time. I’m definitely an extrovert - _duh_ \- but I like my alone time too. Or alone time with people I dig.”

Chris channels his inner brave soul, bolstered by the insinuation in Darren’s words. He wraps his arm around Darren’s placed on his waist and squeezes.

“This is really nice.”

“Would it, um.” Darren lets go and lies on his back. He stares at the ceiling and Chris stares at him. “Uh.”

“Have you lost your ability to English, Darren?” Chris smirks. “College educated at a wicked good school, and for what?”

“Hm.” Darren cocks his head and smirks. “I’d like to kiss you. As me, I mean.”

Chris blinks his lashes over his eyes rapidly. That isn’t what he had been expecting at all. “I… why would you want to do that, exactly?” 

Darren is the kind of boundary-free enigma that left Chris’ logic-centered mind spinning. He isn’t aware of what his body is doing when his tongue dashes out to lick at his lips, but it’s doubtful that Darren would have missed it.

Darren is fascinating. And so, so cute.

“Have you… ever had a boyfriend, Chris?”

The air in the room becomes thick and hot and Chris feels his muscles tense beneath his thin sheets. “Not… uh, not... in so many words, no.” Not in any kind of words, but he’s not sure where Darren is going with this so Chris decides saying less is more.

“Have you ever, like, fucked around with a guy or whatever?”

His heartbeat ratchets up to pound like a bass drum. This isn’t something Chris is used to discussing with anyone, much less with another guy. Much _much_ less with an attractive guy. Don’t even get him started on the number of muches involved when said attractive guy is currently in his bed. “I… uh…”

Darren is this goofy, older, gorgeous guy that he’s lucky enough to work with and stare at all day long. Everyone - girls, boys, dinosaurs - fall in love with him at first sight, and Chris can’t believe that he’s in _his_ bed, that Darren is wrapped around _his_ torso rather than any of the smokin’ hot other people in Chris’ living room right now. 

“Chris?”

“I’m here.” Chris cringes at how high and ridiculous his response is. Darren is lying on his freaking chest. _What the hell is going on?_ “What?”

Darren laughs and squeezes, pinches at Chris’ hip. “I know you’re here. Are you going to answer the question I just asked you?”

Chris has two choices here. Well, three if you count dying of mortification as a valid option, but he’s going to overlook that one. He can either play it cool and answer Darren’s question honestly and hope that his room is too dark to be able to register the fire engine redness of his face and neck, or he can mumble out an embarrassed apology and roll over and pretend to fall straight to sleep. 

Instead, he tries to buy some time. “Uh, what… what was the question?”

Darren laughs. “Pay attention, Colfer. Come on! Have you ever fucked around with someone else? Blowjobs, sex, anything?”

When he takes in a deep breath, he can smell the strong scent of Darren’s after shave or maybe it’s just shampoo and it lulls Chris into a sense of security so he answers without overthinking it further. “Since I moved down here? I’ve fooled around with a couple of guys while I was a little drunk at a party, but that’s it. I didn’t even get their number or anything. It’s sort of pathetic.”

Darren giggles and picks his head up, his chin stabbing Chris in the clavicle. “Drunk, like you are now? C’mon, Colfer! You can trust me. What have you done? I need details. What did these guys look like? What’d you let them do to you?”

_They didn’t look like you, not as much as I’d want…_ Chris feels his blush flare lava hot. He’s grateful the only light in the room is coming from the tiny night light plugged in on his floor. “I’m not telling you that!”

“You don’t have to, I guess. I just like comparing war stories. You can tell me if you want to.” Darren lifts himself up and over Chris’ body so he can look at him and smile. 

_Oh my God, it’s so hot in here._

The traitorous, idiotic part of his brain that doesn’t like to admit how much he likes his friend who’s currently using him for a pillow leaps into the forefront of his consciousness. Darren’s… preferences are a tantalizing mystery that Chris knows he shouldn’t give as much thought as he does. Somehow, that makes him even more attractive and that’s how Chris knows he’s in deep. 

The unknown teasing and lingering in the back of his mind whenever Darren touches his arm innocently while they talk, the way his eyes light up when he succeeds in making Chris throw back his head and laugh. Maybe… maybe?

“Please, Chris?”

“Oh. I um… they both uh….” This is not going well. Chris closes his eyes and balls up his fists at his sides. “I let them blow me in the bathroom and I jerked one of them off. It was honestly the least sexy situation you could possibly imagine. The first time Dianna had slid me three rum and cokes, and all I can really remember is seeing the reflection of my own stupid O-face in the paper towel dispenser.” Darren is silent, completely still. “Go ahead and laugh. I would.”

Darren’s stare goes blank, like he’s left his body completely. His mouth hangs open and he stares out into nothing. Or at least, that’s what it looks like from Chris’ position.

“What is that face, Darren?”

“Huh? Oh, I’m just… picturing it. Picturing you with… them. Drunk. At a party.” Darren lies his head back down against Chris’ beating heart. The silence is palpable; Chris can hardly breathe, wholeheartedly expecting some dramatic aftermath and string of intrusive, personal questions. Instead, it’s silence.

Chris doesn’t know what to do with the restless anxiety crawling between the layers of his skin and his bones. Darren is trying to picture…. He draws in a shuddering breath. “Well, now you know.” He bites his bottom lip and feels his fingers spasm at his sides. “I’m guessing it’s been more than a couple of party hook ups for you, huh?” 

Darren grins something evil and malicious.

Chris can’t help but roll his eyes and chuckle in return. “Yeah, that’s what I figured.”

“Oh, come on. I _am_ a few years older than you. And besides, you’re making me sound like a whore! I’ve had one serious boyfriend and one serious girlfriend, and the rest were just fillers.”

Chris’ mind seems to stop all function at the word _boyfriend_ on Darren’s lips. Nevermind the fact that he’s now making that naughty party of Chris’ mind consider of possibilities of fillers and _filling_. He chokes on a too-fast breath. “That’s…. normal, I guess. I know I’m the exception to the rule.”

“No, you’re eighteen. There’s nothing _wrong_ with you, Chris. If that’s what you’re implying. I was pretty close to what you’ve got under your belt when I was eighteen.”

Chris doesn’t know why he feels the need to explain himself, but now that’s he’s talking, has someone to talk to, his mouth doesn’t seem to know when to stop. “I just don’t want to…. do more with some random guy just to try it or get it over with. I’m interested in sex - I do have a dick and a pulse, so obviously - but I’d need to trust that person completely. And that doesn’t happen for me easily.” His confession makes me feel both lighter and heavier at once.

“Uh, thanks for the information? I wasn’t um, gonna push you or anything.”

“That statement wasn’t even remotely about you, though. Not everything is about you, Golden Boy.”

“No! Of course not! I’m just-” Darren clears his throat. “I’m just letting you know. You know. In case you were wondering.”

Chris nods even though Darren is not looking looking at him. Darren’s actually, beyond Chris’ worst nightmare, studying the collection of fanboy posters on Chris’ wall that had never seemed childish until this very moment. Since he’s already dug his own early grave… “Guess this conversation killed your earlier drunken impulse, huh?” He tries to play it off as a joke to mask the trickle of disappointment searing through his veins.

“Your room reminds me a little of my room back home.” Darren smiles and turns his head to look at Chris, efficiently launching into a swift and strong kiss against his lips. 

Chris doesn’t mean to open his mouth beneath the sudden press of Darren’s lips, but he gasps without thinking, and Darren takes it as an invitation. He deepens the kiss, sweeping his tongue into Chris’ mouth and causing him to whimper and grasp onto the tight cotton of Darren’s tee shirt where it stretches across the back of his shoulders. Kissing is something Chris _does_ know how to do, and so he presses his chest upwards and turns his mind to only the thought of giving as good as he gets.

Darren breaks it, breathing heavily with dilated pupils baring his soul. “Okay.”

Chris knows his own eyes must be wide and wild, his lips still tingling from the scrape of stubble the rings Darren’s plush mouth. He wasn’t in any way ready to stop tasting Darren’s mouth now that he has. “Okay good or okay bad?” _Please please don’t be bad…_

“Okay, awesome.” Darren pecks at Chris’ lips again and rolls off the bed. “I have a feeling that this tour is going to be the best few months of our lives thus far, Colfer. Ready for it?”

“I think that this year is going to be a lot more interesting with you around.” He pushes himself up onto his elbows and tilts his head to look at Darren quizzically. “You’re not staying?”

Darren grins. “Be right back, gotta pee.”

“Oh! Oh um, yeah. It’s right out-”

“Colfer, your place is the size of a closet. I’m sure I can find it. Don’t you move!”

Chris watches as Darren runs out of the room with a beaming smile, and then he falls flat on his back on the bed. The fifteen seconds he spent with Darren’s mouth attached to his left him feeling way more dizzy than the three vodka and lemonade concoctions that he’s consumed tonight. He has no idea what’s happening here, but he knows that he likes it.

What he’d be mortified to know, though, is that Darren may or may not be jerking off twenty feet outside of his bedroom.

Chris flicks on his bedside lamp and tries to sit up against the wall and waits for Darren to come back. He moves restlessly, positions and reposes his body, unsure of how to pull off anything even remotely resembling ease or nonchalance, and ends up sitting anxiously on the edge of his bed with bitten lips and scattered thoughts.

Darren sneaks back in and locks the door behind him. “Hello.”

Chris smiles at him, far too sheepishly to have been sucking at this guy’s bottom lip just moments ago. “Hey. I thought maybe you’d decided to go or something.”

Darren blushes, bites his lip, knocking the light off on his way back over. “Nah.”

Chris stands up and turns around to look at anything other than Darren’s offensively attractive face. Darren even looks good when he’s embarrassed... embarrassed because he’s just kissed a guy he isn’t even into but still has to work with every day. Life just isn’t fair to Chris sometimes. “I’m not sure which side of the bed you want. I can pass out anywhere.”

Darren raises an eyebrow and falls into the bed again but this time horizontally. “Okay.”

Chris stands beside the full-sized bed, a plain mattress on a frame that his parents bought him for two-hundred bucks, and awkwardly plays with one of the throw pillows he uses to prop himself up when he writes. “We should probably get some sleep before we do or say anything else we’ll be embarrassed about in the morning. I’m not going to tell them though, so don’t worry about it.”

Darren opens his mouth and cocks his head back, looking more confused than ever. 

Chris rolls his eyes, not for a moment buying into the too innocent, baffled expression on Darren’s face. “Oh, come on, Darren.”

“I’m going to prove to you that you’re my favorite. It’s not fair that you have so much fucking self-doubt about yourself when you’re all… you.” Darren sits up, yanks at Chris’ tee shirt until he falls on top of him, and launches into yet another make out session.

Chris feels his face scrunch up with the effort it takes, but he allows himself only a good ten or eleven seconds of savoring the feeling of Darren’s lips against his own, before he forces his head to the side. His eyes rolling back when Darren doesn’t miss a beat, mouthing wet at the side of Chris’ neck instead. “Why… God, why are we…”

“I’ll handcuff myself to you if that’s what it takes, Colfer.”

The sounds that tears it’s way out of Chris’ throat is inhuman and loud enough to wake anyone in the room outside who hasn’t already passed out cold. He surges onto Darren, forcing him further into the mattress and moving to kneel on either side of his body. The way he feels against him sends fire-tipped arrows of heat all throughout Chris’ body and makes him want to press closer still. He forgets to be self conscious, letting himself whine and writhe into the kiss as his body sees fit. It’s perfect.

“Fucking shit. You sound… amazing. Shit.”

Chris shakes his head no, disagreeing but unwilling to release the soft flesh of Darren’s lower lip from between his, biting down and swiping at the marks he’s leaving with his tongue. He wants to bite, to suck, and mark and leave some imprint of himself on Darren that the entire world can see once the magical Smirnoff spell wears off, and Darren remembers that Chris is someone so far below his league. He’s confused and feels blunt frustration building in his blood when he’s pressed as tight against Darren’s chest as possible and it’s still not nearly enough.

Darren deepens the kiss because damn, he knows what he’s doing. It’s harder, more thrilling, and Chris needs another cigarette, but this time… this time, he almost has the instinct as if Darren actually wants to be doing this as Darren and Chris. No cameras, no scripts.

He isn’t sure what words he is mumbling into Darren’s open mouth, something about _shit_ and _please_ and _Darren_ and _please_ again, but he suddenly hears it all too well when Darren rasps out his name in a voice that Chris knows he’s never heard him use before. Not his character’s, not a cheeky “babe” when Darren is trying to flirt his way into stealing a few french fries off of Chris’ plate at lunch, not even the standard Colfer. When Darren’s growls out Chris’ name into his ear, every other fucking thing in the world goes dark and stops.

Eventually, they do break away not because they have to but because they have to. They’ve clearly been brought to the edge, if the large poke in the side of Chris’ leg is any indication. He doesn’t want to go too far. He pulls away. 

Chris rolls to the side and slings one arm over his face. He tries to control the rush of feeling surging through his body and ends up laughing breathlessly. “Okay.” He’s never heard his own voice sound quite like this before either. “I guess I believe you.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I mean, for my dick.”

Chris turn his head to the side and grins at Darren’s flushed cheeks and swollen looking lips. Did he do that to Darren’s hair? Huh. “Too soon for a _mind of its own_ joke?”

“Go ahead.” Darren throws an arm up behind his own head and smiles at Chris, expectant, apparently, of a joke and Chris has nothing prepared.

He isn’t sure what gives him the courage, maybe it’s just the way that Darren feels safer to be close to than almost anyone Chris has ever met. He’s a security blanket and Chris is the four year old. There’s an undeniable sense of right to this moment that Chris has never experienced with any of the (admittedly few) guys he has kissed in the past. This is different, it’s just… okay. He pushes himself forward on the bed and chastely kisses Darren’s cheek before pulling one of Darren’s lightly muscled arms around his waist and turning to face the wall. “Next time.”

Darren flutters his eyelashes, _obviously_ trying to be cute. “Next time.”

Chris has never taken himself for a cuddler. His family had never been particularly affectionate, and the only person Chris was honestly used to hugging was his little sister. The feeling of Darren’s lean body spooned up behind his, tucked and folded together from neck to knee, isn’t something he ever imagined doing, much less liking so much. But he does…. and it is. Chris feels himself smiling at the blank wall a few inches in front of his face.

“I do believe you’re going to totally outgrow me, Colfer.”

Chris snuggles back just a bit, sleeping fighting against his every effort to remain conscious to feel Darren holding him. “I really like you. Darren.” In the pitch dark, Chris blushes like a wildfire. He’s thankful it’s only his face that is hot to the touch. He grins when Darren inches in even closer and mumbles something that sounds too much like “ _same_ ” to be a lie.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one in which Darren is not a pizza

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one takes place at one of the darkest times in their lives, when they're both having to deal with losing a friend. As bad as things may have gotten between them, maybe all they really had to turn to was each other. Warnings for mention of the death or Cory Monteith. RIP, Cory.

The plane, at five-hundred miles per hour, is not enough.  It’s not going fast enough, he’s not getting there in time.  In time for what, he doesn't know, but the sense of urgency is palpable.  He needs to fucking get there and now.  Five hours in, and the pilot finally announces that they are working diligently to figure out some sort of final descent, and Darren starts to shake.  As soon as he touches down at LAX, it will all become real.  At least, for the three days he’s postponed his entire promo schedule.  He has no idea what the reaction to him just showing up might be, it’s not as if they’ve talked about it. 

Or talked at all. 

But the fact remains that as soon as Darren heard the news that had him sliding down a wall in the middle of his midtown high rise hotel lobby, there had only been one person on his mind.   

It was unthinkable and devastating. That someone so young and full of life could just be gone in an instant. All of his friends must be finding out the news in much the same way he did and left lost and reeling, but Darren can only think of one. The same person his mind usually goes to when things go wrong and the world gets scary. 

It just so happens to be the same person he wants to reach out to when things are going right. But he can’t. 

None of that matters now. Nothing matters except knowing, seeing for himself that he is okay. 

Cory’s gone, but how is _Chris_ handling it? 

So maybe it’s an impulsive, dumbass move but Darren doesn’t think twice, he just gets on his phone, books a ticket, and heads home. 

He figures the worst that can happen is he gets a door slammed in his face. As long as it’s slammed by the person he needs to see, as long as he sees him for even five seconds, he thinks he might be more or less satisfied with that. 

He just needs to see that he’s okay.  Because when the advance news broke that a _Glee_ star has passed away, in the limbo between knowing and not, Darren thought immediately of Chris and his self-medicating, of insomnia and sleeping pills, of anxiety attacks and the thought of too many people and pursuing fame at the exact same time.  No other details will matter, not until Chris is standing in front of him, alive and breathing albeit undoubtedly broken. 

Darren has to go to him, help in any way Chris sees fit.  Be a shoulder or be abused, it doesn't matter.  He’ll do that for him because even if they’re in this bad spot they’re in, Darren still cares about him as much as he always has.   

He isn’t even all that surprised when Chris’ phone goes straight to voicemail the seven times he tries to call. He’s never been very good at answering it, anyway. But when one, then four, and then no less than nine texts go not only answered but unread as well, there was nothing else for Darren to do _but_ go. 

The cab driver is slowly making his way back into the thick of the city as Darren decides that he’s not even going to go back to his house first.   He needs to go straight to Chris.  He leans toward the front of the car and asks to please head toward Chris’ house instead, settling back into the seat with the weight becoming heavier atop his shoulders as he gets closer and closer.   

The ride is mostly silent except for the small mumblings of the driver as someone ultimately cuts him off, or the faint squeaks of the breaks.  He pays the guy far too much when he gets there, and rolls his suitcase up to Chris’ front door.  He stares at the etches in the wood for a few full minutes.  There’s nothing going through his head besides Chris.  It’s usually Chris, if he’s being honest, and it’ll probably always be him too. 

Cory.  Oh, God… _Cory_.   

Cory was definitely the dad of the group, but before all else, he acted as Chris’ stand-in older brother and protector.  Chris was so green, so incredibly inexperienced in everything Hollywood and _life_ back then, so Cory took him under his wing and helped him embrace the mature kid he has grown into.  Chris loved him.  They all did, but Chris was special. 

He was probably the one that bonded with Chris the most.  They just… connected.  And everyone saw it, everyone was happy for Chris to have that in the scary city, as Chris became a household name.  The writers even gave them a great brotherly storyline.  Darren knows now - _Glee_ is, in part, autobiographical. 

Darren may not know about what Chris is up to these days, but he knows who Chris _is_.  He knows how much Chris relies on the few things he considers constants in his life and how inflexible he is, how stubborn he is toward changes he doesn’t agree with.  He can only imagine how Chris is reacting to the news mere hours after the tragedy, a thousand miles from where it happened.  Unchangeable and final. 

There’s no version of Chris that Darren won’t ever feel compelled to shelter and protect, especially after all of this.  Outside people see Chris as strong, calm, wise beyond his years. But in reality, he’s a scared kid lost in a city he doesn’t really want to be in, isolated and all alone. They all are. Success doesn’t change that. It just makes it scarier when you’re forced to deal with a setback.   

Darren knocks on the door.  He _has_ to. 

He stands there long enough to get a shiver from the southern California night, and just when he’s about to walk away and figure out his Plan B, the door opens and Chris is standing there in front of him.  Wrecked, destroyed, but alive.  Surviving.  Alone.  Surviving alone. 

“You’re… not a pizza.   _Oh_.” 

“I came as soon as I heard.” 

“Here?  You came here?” 

“Obviously.” 

Darren watches as the walls build up, as Chris’ face physically becomes harder, shut off to Darren standing in front of him.  His hip cocks out with attitude, as if Darren is going to try to sneak through the hole he’d left between his body and the frame of the front door.  He’s transformed into exactly the Chris that is to be seen by Darren during this time in their lives.  That’s okay.  Darren can be the punching bag if that’s what Chris needs. 

“Aren’t there more important people for you to be seeing right now?” 

“ _Chris_.” 

Chris sighs and leans against the side of the doorframe. His tee shirt is wrinkled and there are purple shadows under his eyes that tell the tale of the day and a half he’s spent crying and pulling at his hair, lost in his head and fighting with his own emotion.  Like a boomerang that doesn’t just come back, that comes back and hits him square in the forehead. He closes his eyes and his shoulders slump forward in-between one breath and the next. 

“Well, your civil duty as Mr. Nice Guy has been fulfilled. I’m fine. You can move onto the next person on your list, Darren.” 

“You know what, Chris?  Stop being such a fucking dick and let me the fuck in.  I’m here for you.  I came because of you, nobody else.  I think you know that and I think you turning me away is just another way you can tell me how you told me so in the beginning of this hot fucking mess.”       

“Not everything is about you, and especially not today, Darren.” 

“Are you going to let me in or not?” 

Chris’ eyes flash a dangerous steely blue from behind the thick lenses of his glasses. “I didn’t ask you to come here.” 

“You don’t have to ask me.  I’m here because I want to be.” 

“If I need to talk to someone, I’ll call someone. You don’t have to worry about me.” 

“That doesn’t make me suddenly stop.  Cory was…”  Darren sighs and rubs at his eyes.  “We’ll never be the same, will we?” 

At the mention of the name a ripple of pain crosses over Chris face. It’s a flinch, a reflex, but it’s enough to soften his features and Darren spots a glimpse of the old Chris inside the harder shell that he tries so hard to present. “No, Darren.  I guess we won’t.”  Chris folds his arms over his chest. 

Chris steps aside without another word, half curtsying to show Darren it’s okay to enter the house.  Darren takes in the muted colors and loud pop art, easily able to pick out what touches had come from Chris himself and what was the tasteful work of a high price decorator. His place is very much the same that way. 

“Nice digs.  I think I’ve only been here, what?  Once?”  Darren rolls his suitcase into the foyer and parks it out of the way.  “Did you say you ordered a pizza?" 

Chris laughs quietly and shakes his head. “Always thinking with your stomach. Yeah, I realized I hadn’t exactly eaten anything today… So I just…” He trails off with a weak shrug of his shoulders. He roams around his living room, picking up books and placing them back down, focusing on anything besides Darren. “When did you find out?” 

“I got a call earlier this afternoon. I was in-” 

“New York. I know.” 

Darren tries not to let it matter to him that Chris would even care enough to keep up with his whereabouts. He clears his throat uncomfortably.  That’s _something_ , isn’t it? “Uh, what about you?” 

“Hm? Oh. Someone from the studio called me before it hit the news. They didn’t want me to find out on the Internet.” Chris’ voice is flat, like he was repeating a bygone weather report. 

He wants to reach out and either pull Chris’ body into his arms or slap him until he drops the cold act he’s putting on. Darren isn’t entirely sure which. “You’ve known all day? Why isn’t someone here with you, then?” A note of agitation touches his voice. “Since you have such _great friends_ and all.” It’s a slightly dickish thing to say, and he can readily admit that. But ever since Chris had started giving him the cold shoulder and brushing him off, it’s become a bit of a sore subject between them.  One of several. 

Chris seems to bit up on the jab and his eyes flicker back to Darren’s face. “If I’d wanted someone to be here, they’d have come. _Most_ people in my life respect boundaries and my personal space.” 

“Sorry.  I’m just not that guy for you, Chris.  I thought you knew at least that about me.” 

Darren caused this whole thing.  Every ounce of attitude that is Chris Colfer’s wrath toward him is entirely because of Darren.  Because of the choices he made under the influence of people he thought he trusted. But Chris is right.  Not everything is about him.  He’ll take whatever Chris throws at him tonight and always because it is all his fault Chris knows how to throw them at all. 

“Why are you here?” 

“Oh, because the news broke as an unnamed _Glee_ star dying from an overdose and I immediately thought of you.  Then they confirmed him and I wanted to make sure you were okay.  I know how close-” 

“You thought it could have been me?” 

“Yes! I mean no! I mean… fuck, _Chris_. I was worried okay?  I didn’t think you’d have done anything purposely… I just, _fuck_.  I was scared, okay?  Then when I found out it was _him_ , I knew you’d isolate yourself up here, and that’s not fucking good for you either.” 

“I can see I made the right choice in-” 

“So.  Here’s what’s gonna happen. And give me all the bitchy looks you want, but I’m staying with you for the next three days whether you like it or not.  To ensure that neither of us do anything totally fucking stupid and don’t have to be alone.  I don’t want to be alone, Chris.  And even if you could handle this alone doesn’t mean you should.” 

“Uh huh.  And shouldn’t you be home with your _girlfriend_?” 

“Will you fucking stop with the bitter, asshole remarks?  You’re really starting to get on my goddamn nerves.” 

“Then maybe you should go home! You do still have a house, Darren.” 

“Nice try, _babe_. But I am not going anywhere. You are stuck with me for the next… however many fucking hours three days is. But I’m staying.  I’m staying with you until I have to go back and promote my shitty ass movie.” 

Chris stands in front of him, deflated and exhausted.  His lungs nearly collapse from the sincere exhale and he shrugs one of his shoulders into his ear.  “Fine.  There’s an extra blanket in the linen closet down the hall.  Don’t you dare breathe a word of this to anyone.” 

It’s pretty much the best outcome Darren could of hoped for. He’d been expecting the door to be slammed in his fucking face. But he can’t help but dig his own grave a little deeper. He yells at Chris’ back when the other man scoops up that fat load that he calls a cat and begins to walk up the stairs. “What, you mean we aren’t going to slumber party it, Colfer? Stay up all night and talk about boys and trade fashion tips?” 

Darren can almost see the hair rise on the back of Chris’ neck. He spins around on the fifth stair, dropping Brian in the process. “You know, if you weren’t such an immature prick all the time, then maybe we still could have-” 

“Could have what, Chris? Stayed friends?  Been in a serious relationship for years by now?” Darren flops back down onto the over-stuffed red sofa like his legs could no longer hold him up. The day has been draining, sad, and exhaustive, but it was the relief of seeing Chris at least physically okay that has him more _done_ than anything else. He feels wrung out and when he meets Chris’ bright, jewel-tone eyes again what comes out is nothing but honesty. “It would be so… damn refreshing to just forget about everything between us and have a few days where no one’s watching.” 

“It would be.  But that’s just not us, is it?” 

Darren sighs and, with tremendous effort, pushes himself back up off of Chris’ way too comfortable couch. He stops at the base of the stairs and stares up at the man the boy he lost his heart to two years ago has become. He knows Chris has a full life, a never-ending string of new boyfriends, a circle of friends who probably hate his guts, this crazy new writing career, things Darren doesn’t know much of anything about. But he wants to, if Chris will only let him. “How about we start with a pizza and not letting each other be alone tonight? Just that. Okay?”  Since he’s touched down in LA, Darren’s felt Chris in every heartbeat.  He’d love for tonight to end up in being more, but he needs to start his own recovery process as well.  He needs to start with pizza.     
  
“I hope you like pepperoni and mushrooms.  Going all out tonight felt necessary.” 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where chris reopens the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody! Are we all enjoying Hedwig (even those many of us who haven't seen it yet and can just sit back behind our computers and groan in pleasurepain?) This one takes place mid way through the filming of season four and is a bit of a two-parter. Expect the following "lunch date" tomorrow. Thanks for reading!
> 
> ^^^ That professional note is from Desi. I, Nikkie, would like to add that you M-U-S-T go see Hedwig if you don't already have plans to do so. If you want to be inspired at all by the lovely Darren Criss that is. Like, I haven't really slept since Tuesday when I saw it for the first time and I just... no words, guys. Just go see it, if only for the little black dress. Thanks for reading and ENJOY!

He doesn’t mean to eavesdrop.  Chris doesn’t set out to start his day with the thought in mind to get caught up in Darren’s drama and wave after tidal wave of bullshit.  But when he hears that voice that he’ll never completely be able to exorcise from his mind sound so defeated, trampled under the feet of a business and its slanted rules that none of them will ever really understand, Chris can’t just pretend he doesn’t hear and walk away. 

“I’ve been pouring my heart and fucking soul into this record for over a year!  They can’t just take it away!”  Darren groans and kicks a fake wall on set.  The person on the other end says something and he responds by hanging up. 

Chris watches the entire exchange, turning the corner fully when it’s safe to be seen.  He doesn’t want anyone else to see Darren this way and he alone knows what the music means to him.  He’ll try to help.  It’s a rash decision but it seems like he has to do this.  Besides, he’s never _liked_ seeing Darren in pain... unless he’s the one causing it.  And in those instances, it is always deserved and justifiable.  That’s what he tells himself, at least. 

Darren looks up and sees it’s him, so he just rolls his eyes and slides down the wall, waving his hands in front of his face, which is probably the universal sign to _leave me the fuck alone_.  If Chris knows any better, he’s sure that Darren is waiting patiently for a dose of his snark, a low blow, or just a cold slap of ignoring him right there on the floor.   

Chris sits down beside Darren, despite his efforts not to.  He doesn’t say anything at first, just sits there.  Something he hasn’t done in a while.   

Chris watches the internal fight Darren is having with himself.  It’s a rough one, and he knows he should likely get up and leave.  After three-hundred and fifty-seven seconds, Darren moves his head to rest on his knees, drawn up to his chest.  “Dammit, Chris.” 

Chris isn’t sure how to respond.  He’s not sure what to say or what to do or why he’s here at all.  Typically, he stays as far away as humanly possible from the hot, complicated mess that is Darren Criss, so he’s shocked when the words of comfort come out of his mouth.  “This concrete is filthy and my ass hurts.  Come have lunch with me.” 

Darren seems to be taken back, shocked.  “You, uhhh…”  Darren blinks.  “You don’t have to do that, Chris.  I’m fine.  Just maybe don’t tell anyone about how much I was whining?  I’m good, I’m fine.” 

“You don’t look fine.  Just, please?” 

“I really don’t need… and you hate the food.  Don’t you?”  But Darren’s already getting up, he’s already clearly made up his mind. 

Chris shrugs and gets up, wiping his pants off, dust and grime embedded into the fibers now and forever.  “The cookies are decent.  And Diet Coke is fuckery-proof.  Come on.”  He walks over to craft services, with Darren behind him struggling to keep up, and starts filling up a tray with food without asking or being asked.  He senses Darren hovering like an orb a few feet behind him until they end up back at his trailer.   

Darren smiles as he looks around, a full picture of satisfied little puppy, before sitting at the table and sitting up straight.  He picks a little at the food and focuses on that.  “Okay, fine.  This food is gross.” 

Chris smirks and slides one of the five cookies he grabbed.  One for Darren, four for him.   

“You’d think with Princess and Grouchy Bitch around, we’d have some good stuff.  Clearly, their diva status is not working for the greater good.”  Darren stuffs the entire cookie in his mouth and keeps talking.  “This morning, Lea direct me through this… choreography to make me more like Blaine, more confident.  Said she can help me because she’s gotten into her character since day one.   The only reason she knows Rachel so well is because she _was_ Rachel.  Tried telling her, girl, that’s not a good thing.” 

Chris smiles and shakes his head.  “The hell are you complaining about?  You don’t even work with her at all this season.  I’m living on a fucking stage with her.” 

Darren shrugs.  “Like most of these other guys are any better?  I only enjoy my work when I’m working with you, honestly.  Other than that, I can’t wait ‘til this is over so we can do real projects that fucking mean something.” 

“The other day, she asked me to go get something out of her car.  Do I look like a PA to you?  You shouldn’t even treat the PAs like that!  Like they’re… beneath her.” 

“You were always my favorite gossip.”  Darren grins and wipes his mouth.  “Don’t pay her any mind.  You’re way better than she’ll ever be and she’s threatened by you.  All these people, they’re jealous you have a real career to look forward to after this shit.” 

Chris feels the heat in his cheeks; he’s never been good with compliments, especially from Darren.  “So do you.  The album… there’s problems?  I kinda overheard, I’m sorry.  I know it’s not my place and you don’t have to tell me anything.  I know we’re not really…”  Anything.  Anymore.  “...close friends.  But I know how damn talented you are.  You’ll make it, I can feel it.” 

Darren rolls his eyes.  “Permission to speak candidly and not freak you out?” 

“Go ahead.” 

“Sony thinks my songs are too gay.  I wrote, uh, a song or two about a guy I know and I refuse to change the pronoun.  But it wouldn’t make sense to make it about a girl and more importantly,  I don’t _want_ it to be a girl song.”  Darren looks at Chris, his eyes desperately trying to communicate something that Chris is certain he doesn’t want to know.  “They want to drop me for creative differences and the shitty manager I have is ‘working on it’ but that basically means that he’s about to make it ten times worse.  So I’m being dropped from my label today.” 

Chris has to bite down on his tongue to keep from asking if it’s been worth it, what Darren gave up to pave the way for this career of his, if the streets of hiding and dishonesty were truly paved with platinum.  But he doesn’t. Chris takes the high road, a strategy he doesn’t often employ with Darren  “They’ll realize what an asset they have in you.  You’ll make them way too much cash to not have you around.  You’re the Golden Boy, Darren.” 

“Well, maybe I don’t want to be with them when they obviously don’t care about my feelings!  Why is my sexuality such a fucking discussion?  They only don’t care when you’re next level talented, and I’m too generic to be the next Adam Lambert, Elton John… you.  My sex has to sell because my talent isn’t mindblowing.  And apparently, boys who kiss boys don’t listen to music.” 

Chris breathes in, but Darren’s words, Darren himself, seems to have sucked all the air out of his tiny trailer.  It’s everything he’s wanted to hear Darren say and admit for years, but it doesn’t feel like vindication to Chris now.  It just feels sad.  He rubs his lips together and looks at Darren’s lost face with a level stare.    

“I don’t want to be a part of this business anymore if I can’t be myself.  I’m done.” 

“You can’t just quit.”  Chris sighs and folds both of his arms onto the tabletop.  “We all have contracts here.  But Darren, you’re not as powerless as you appear to think you are.  If you honestly want to make a change, then do it.  What’s stopping you?” 

“Your contract doesn’t say that you must have a girlfriend through syndication, Colfer.  They’ll fire me, blacklist me, and then sue me for breach of contract if I so much as look at you or any other guy, let alone have sex with or blow or kiss or _anything_.  It’s very explicit.  Like, it reads like boring porn.”  Darren sighs.  “I know you don’t understand it, but please know that it’s real and I… didn’t mean to do this.” 

Chris stares at him like Darren is someone he’s never seen before in his life.  It’s what he’s always known, but to hear it spelled out for him makes a knife twist in the deepest parts of Chris’ gut.  It rips that thin, discolored but healed skin open over an old scar.  “I know that you didn’t…  I know.”  Chris anxiously resettles himself in his seat.  He doesn’t know how to have this kind of conversation much less have it with him.  He _hated_ Darren for so long based upon one decision that the idea of trying to give him some kind of support or advice about it is as alien to him as the thought of being in that situation himself. 

“It doesn’t even have to do with dating, and God knows it has nothing to do with sex.  Since the last guy I was with was…”  Darren swallows.  “I’m just tired of being someone else.  I’m not this macho straight guy who loves football and they’re trying to sell me as that guy.  I’ve been talking more and more about Broadway in interviews lately.  I’m such an idiot.  Like that will stereotypically set me free or something.” 

“It won’t.”  Chris agrees, shaking his head.  “But if you’re serious about wanting out of this, there are people who would help you, support you.  You _have_ friends, Darren.  I know the idea of trying to get away from these people has to be scary as hell, but if you’re this miserable, whatever they’ve promised you can’t be worth it.” 

“My asshole friends think I’m doing the right thing if this opens the doors to other things.  I have no one who really understands why I thought it was a good idea at the time.  No one understands what it’s like to go home to a girl who… I just don’t want this anymore but I feel like if I’m like hey guys nevermind!  Be yourself!  All these poor kids?  They’ll think I’m exactly what I am… a fraud who deserves none of this.  I really fucked up here.” 

The thing is, he can’t deny it.  Any of it.  No one has made it more clear what they thought of Darren and his choices than Chris has.  It’s been the enormous elephant in the room between them for years now.  He wants to understand but the unfortunate truth is simple.  Chris never will. 

“I’m sorry for unloading all my shit on you.  It’s just… it’s been years, Chris.  And if anything, I guess I just needed to make sure you knew the truth.  It… we, uh.  We were on our way to something... uh.”  Darren stops himself from saying something that they both know would only serve to make Chris uncomfortable.  It’s not like speaking the truth out loud changes even one damn thing.  “Nope, fuck you Colfer, we’re not fucking going there.  I need to go.”  Darren huffs outward and rises to his feet. 

Chris’ heart is thumping in his ears and Darren’s words have left him scrambling to try to slap together whatever pieces of the puzzle that Darren’s always been.  The picture isn’t clear.  The only thing he knows for sure is that he’s not ready to let him leave. 

“Thanks for listening.  I’ll catch you later.” 

Chris scratches at a sticky spot on the table where he’d spilled his soda and let it dry.  The syrupy residue sticks under his fingernails. “Yeah.  I… look, we both know the food and the people here suck sometimes.  Do you want to maybe come back and have lunch in here tomorrow?  I’m usually hiding in here anyway.  You can hide with me, if you want.”  It’s the scariest offer he’s ever made.  A dangerous and ill-thought-out invitation that he makes just because he doesn’t want to have to say goodbye just yet.  Chris knows he’ll be angry as hell at himself later, but it doesn’t stop him. 

Darren stares at Chris with his mouth open and a blush high on his cheeks for a good thirty seconds.  It makes Chris want to retract, run, disappear into the floor beneath him.  “To clarify.”  Darren scratches at the spot where his beard used to be.  “You don’t even look at me for nearly two years and then suddenly you’re inviting me to have lunch with you two days in a row.”  Darren grins.  “I’d like that, Colfer.  Let’s do that.” 

“Just because everyone else sucks.”  Chris feels his traitor lips wanting to return Darren’s smile. 

“So hard, and not in the sexy way.”  Darren fucking _winks_ at him and hops out of Chris’ trailer, disappearing into the sunset that is Paramount Studios. 

Chris drops his head onto the table, banging it against it for good measure.  This is the dumbest thing he’s done in a long time.  And that includes the night Ashley talked him into playing a drinking game with a bottle of coconut rum while watching Housewives.  This was something he was going to regret every bit as much as that hangover that lasted for a good twelve hours.  He just knows it. 

But. 

Darren is more of a stranger to him now than a friend and for whatever reason he can’t possibly muster, he doesn’t want to not know him.  Not completely.  Neither of them are the same people that they were two years ago. 

If Darren feels this alone, if he’s genuinely wanting to make changes in his life, what reason does Chris have to resent him anymore?  Holding on to old, petty grudges isn’t healthy for anyone involved.  He’s moved on with his life, anyway.  So denying Darren a friend now, when he seems to be screaming out for one, would make him a complete dick and that’s not Chris’ goal here.  They still work together, they should be able to put the past aside and at least be civil to one another.     
  
It’s worth a try. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one where a door slams in Darren's face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, the second part of the previous one shot about two days on the Glee set back during the filming of season four. Not the happiest of tones on this one, sorry about that. Lots of ups and downs before Chris got on that plane to New York...

Darren’s world has been blurred at the edges lately.  He’s felt as if he’s on edge all the time, he’s not connecting with anyone on set, he’s fucking sexually frustrated.  He doesn’t remember where the lies end and the truth begins, so he just tries not to talk about himself anymore.  He’s anxious the entire morning and as the ever-so-slow minutes tick by, he feels himself inflate more and more into a full person.   

Lunch is finally called and Darren runs off of the stage quickly, so as to try to beat Chris to his own trailer and wait for him.  When he turns the corner, though, Darren’s face beams at Chris, who’s already waiting for him on the steps of the trailer, foot tapping a mile a minute.  Darren watches him stand when he spots him. 

He sees Chris five days a week, more if in his mind counts, but seeing him sitting there with a bag of take out on the ground beside him, and knowing that he’s waiting for _him_ makes it feel like he hasn’t seen Chris in years. If there’s even a chance that they can get back any small part of what they had once, Darren’s going to grab onto it with both fucking hands and sink his teeth in for good measure.  Even if all Chris is willing to offer him is an unbalanced, full of awkward pauses and heavy stares friendship, it would still probably be the best damn thing in Darren’s life at the moment. 

“Darren!” 

It isn’t the voice he’s wanted to hear since he walked out of the trailer yesterday.  A cold sense of dread creeps up Darren’s spine, freezing nerve endings one by one and causing them to stop firing.  Time seems to move in a thick, slow motion drag as he knows what is about to happen before it does.  Two parties of his life that should never mix, that he would never even want to acknowledge in the same thought come crashing together in front of his eyes. 

Her.  She’s with his manager, both of them smiling and walking over to Darren with bright smiles on their faces, completely una-fucking-ware that they’re destroying Darren’s entire universe with every step of her trashy heels across the lot.  Oh God, they’re here now?   _Now?_

He hears himself fighting it, trying to refuse a shared lunch break with them, that he has plans.  She latches onto him by way of grind and hug and over her shoulder, he catches Chris’ eyes. The blue bleeds away into a pale color like ice.  Hard, cold.  Darren’s losing him all over again without ever even having him in the first place, and there’s not one damn thing he can do about it. 

He feels his mouth try to make words that his brain is too numb to compute, desperately trying to mentally latch onto any thought that might keep Chris from looking at him the way that he is.  But it’s too late.  He’s just gotten a front row seat for the shit show that is Darren’s life.  The perfect techni-color reminder of every reason they can never be friends. 

The bag of food hits the ground, containers spilling open and ruined on the dirty cement.  The image of it is something that Darren identifies with on a disturbing level.  His own happiness feels just as wrecked.  Before Darren can even glance up from the carnage, the door to the trailer has been closed and he sure as hell knows it won’t be opening again. 

His surroundings blur as he makes his way over to clean up the mess.  He has to do _something_.  He’s close enough to see the details and the details are fish and chips.  Fucking fish and chips like they’re transformed over the sea and straight into Ireland… straight into that little pub by the hotel in Dublin they ate at before they had sex for the first time.  Chris remembers, he remembered that and now... 

Darren turns, leaving his little friends and a plethora of French fries stranded in the middle of the parking lot and makes his way toward his trailer without a word.   _She_ tries to follow him but he steps quicker and for the first time since he’s started on the show, he locks his trailer door behind him.   

He throws the blinds down and thrashes like a toddler against the mattress in the back.  He’s pissed at himself, beyond the point of no return that, no matter what happens, no matter how much he tries, he can’t seem to fucking make this work.   

Is this how his life was always going to be?  For every tentative step forward that he makes, Darren in turn has to fall on his ass, in the mud, in a fucking hailstorm, and end up seven miles back?  That’s not an over exaggeration, at least it doesn’t feel like one. 

He tries the breathing exercises he once knew Chris to practice on the verge of anxiety and allows himself to calm down naturally.  It’s just the way it is.  This is what he chose.  He sits up on the bed and stares at himself in the reflection of the mirror and nods.  He can do this.  He’s made his bed and now he must lay in it. 

But he knows that Chris and Lea are shooting on the other stage and it wouldn’t hurt to just… try to apologize.  Chris has to have known that he would have never put him purposely in that sort of situation.  He needs to try to explain himself. 

Darren cringes as he sneaks into the New York set, where Chris and Lea are working this afternoon.  He sits in Lea’s chair and watches a few takes, even if there’s absolutely no reason at all for him to be here.  He should be home, but he lied to his _friends_ that he still had another scene to shoot requesting a rain check on an early dinner out.  Which is the only reason why they left anyway - because there wouldn’t be anyone to see them together if he was busy working. 

When Chris and Lea are told to take a break for a reset, they walk over together and Lea huffs when she gets close.   

“Uh!  Darren!  That’s my chair!” 

“Keeping it warm for you, Princess.”  Darren rolls his eyes and hops out. 

“Considerate.”  She rolls her eyes and grabs her bag that Darren had carelessly dumped to the floor. 

“Divas are typically important to the whole world, not just themselves.” Darren steps toward Chris.  “Hi.” 

Chris’ face is as blank as a mask, a doll.  Nothing is getting through, in or out, of those gorgeous eyes right now.  Darren wants to shake him, scream in his face, beg Chris to say or do something, to _feel_ something… but he doesn’t.  Instead, Darren stays quiet; he knows he fucked up.  He’ll be Chris’ punching bag.  He just needs to apologize first. 

“Chris, I…” 

Chris doesn’t look at him; he simply turns on his heel and walks out of the stage doors.  Darren knows he’s wasted more than enough time and effort on him, so he’s shocked when Chris has words for him still.  “This isn’t your set.” 

Darren struggles to catch up with Chris.  “I know that.  I just… _Chris_.” 

Chris sighs, overdramatically, and spins with folded arms.  “Yes, Darren.  What can I do for you now?  Need another pep talk?  Me to tell you you’re not a fucking idiot?  Sorry.  I have better things to do.” 

“I’m sorry!  Okay?  Please, I didn’t know they’d…”  Darren looks at him, on the verge of tears.  “Dammit, I hate this.  I hate how you hate me and I hate that I can’t do anything about it.  My hands are tied, Chris.  Please tell me how I can make this better for you, please?”  Darren sighs.  “I can’t…” 

Chris rolls his eyes.  “God, you are not even real!  In case no one filled you in, Darren, the world does not revolve around you.  Not everything is about you.  Stop whining.  Truth is I would have to care enough to hate you, and I honestly don’t.  We are co-workers.  You are nothing more than that to me than that.” 

“That’s real nice, Colfer.  Thank you.” 

“Someone might as well be honest around here.  God knows _you’re_ not.” 

“Yeah, thanks for the reminder.  Must be nice to walk around and not feel like shit every time you look at everyone you’ve pissed off with your stupid mistakes.”  He feels himself breaking right here in front of Chris.  He’s got to get out of here, he doesn’t have a lot of pride left, but enough to not want that.   

“Have a wonderful day, Darren.” 

Darren tilts his head as he examines his _co-worker._  Chris is angry, beyond angry.  He balls his hands into fists and seethes, breathing through his mouth and turning fire engine red.   

Darren nods.  “Sorry again, Colfer.  See you around.” 

He has to back off now.  He can’t continue to feel this way for someone who will never see them as anything ever again.  Chris doesn’t even care enough to hate him, to be his friend, to be an ally who would understand the predicament he’s put himself in, and there’s no one for Darren to blame for any of that but himself.  He heads back to his trailer to watch mindless TV until he’s collected for his next scene in the choir room.  He knows he’s being insufferable here and he knows people are noticing.  The thing he’s not surprised about is that no one seems to care here either.  The one person he wants to know, that he would want to know him for who he really is, isn’t coming back.  Chris has effectively shut the door on any other possibility. 

After work, Darren decides he needs to blow off some steam and so as he waits for the scene to get started, he does an ample amount of research and makes some very detailed and sordid plans for himself after work.  He tells no one, but he knows for himself that he’ll make it the best time ever.   
  
He’s got to - this has to be his new normal now. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one with the public bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Whoops. Sorry about that, guys. Desi had some complications in life and my life has been run solely by Hedwig and the Angry Inch, so we didn’t exactly get around to posting for a really long time. Anyway, here’s one from Glee sometime after the fall out. Enjoy and as always, let us know what you think! xoxo!

"I'm gonna run to the bathroom, guys." He says it to no one. He doesn't even have to pee. Not really. This “party” is in full swing but he’s having no fun whatsoever.  This is stupid.  He hates this shit. 

Darren shoulders his way through the men's room door and stumbles to a skidding stop. The back of that head, of fucking course. He would be in here right now, because life hates Darren. 

Chris doesn't turn away from the urinal on the wall. "Staring is rude." 

Mirrors will be the death of him, at least in this very moment.  This is so stupid.

"Sorry. Um, sorry." Darren looks around the bathroom in a way that he's obviously trying to not look at Chris. "Okay." He stands at the urinal two down from Chris and stares at himself in the mirror. Okay. "I don't even have to..." 

The sound of Chris zipping himself up is loud in the small, tiled room and it makes Darren dizzier than the two back to back whiskeys he'd drank after the whole fiasco on the red carpet. He hands clinging to his arm felt like they'd burned and scalded his skin the tough the thick material of his jacket. He's still blinded by the camera flashes. But those had been the entire point, the point of Darren even being here. With her. 

Chris crosses the bathroom to the bank of sinks to scrub at his hands. Darren almost laughs at how thorough he is about it. Still. 

"So you come in here for entertainment purposes then?" 

"Oh.  What?  No.  I'm hiding. From the circus." Darren joins him at the sink and washes his hands. Even though he didn't even unzip his pants, let alone touch anything at all. "I hate this so fucking much, Chris." 

Chris' eyes flash up to meet Darren's in the mirror. It's that impulsive reaction to someone calling a name, sooner regrettable than not. His gaze is back on his pale-scrubbed-to-pink hands underneath the spray of the hot water from the faucet within seconds and Darren feels like Chris’ name is just poison on his lips. He’s positive that Chris must despise his existence. 

"You don't seem like you hate it. People who hate it don't parade themselves in front of the firing line and pose for twenty minutes." 

"That's the whole point of me being here, though. I'm currently working." Darren swallows. "But that doesn’t mean that I want to be here.  I _don't_ want to be here." 

Chris shakes his hands into the sink with a heavy sigh. "This is an obligation for all of us, Darren.  Not everything is about you.  No one wants to be here.  The difference is, not everyone decides to turn it into another role like you do." Chris' voice is hard-edged, abrasive. It's the voice he usually uses when the two of them are forced into conversation. Darren just watches, his hand hands still under the stream of the water, while Chris rips a wad of paper towels out of the holder. 

"Okay. Cool.  Well, you have a great night. I’m sure your new boy toy will obviously put out tonight, won't he? He's fucking all over you with his stupid suit and his stupid hair." Darren glares at Chris and storms out of the bathroom.  Okay, so maybe that was a little self-indulgent.  He can’t help himself when jealousy is all the rage.  Whatever, it doesn’t matter anyway. 

Darren makes it three steps down the hall outside the bathroom door before the sharp voice from behind and the slamming open of the door stops him. 

"Hey!" Chris' face is pinked, eyes blazing as he stares after Darren from the open doorway. 

He doesn't know if he should engage Chris tonight or not, when they're both in a mood.  As usual, though, he's powerless, too consumed in whether or not he can turn this guy’s feelings around.  Maybe he can.  Probably not tonight.  Still, he twirls around and folds his arms across his chest.  "What, Colfer? What now?" 

Chris shoves his hands in his pockets and glares at the cherry wood paneled wall beside him, his thin lips twisted into an uneasy grimace. "You... you don't get to judge me." There's a whisper of hurt in Chris’ voice that Darren only recognizes thanks to that bob in his throat when he swallows after the words are out in the air between them. It isn't something Darren's meant to see. 

But he does. 

Darren approaches him.  He only steps forward two times.  "Then you don't get to judge me either. Obviously I'm trying to deal with this the best I know how and you're just... Just. Stop judging me. That’s all you’ve done lately and I hate it.  I hate that I have to be here at all but I hate even more than I have to be here next to you wondering what I did to you this time.  You don't think highly of me, fine. You don't have to remind me every fucking day." 

Chris' sculpted eyebrows draw down over his steely gray eyes. People say that Darren's change colors, hazel, but not like Chris' do. Shifting and blending with the scenery and his moods. Too bad no one ever though to hand Darren the color key. "It’s pretty clear that I don't like your choices, and obviously you have a problem with mine. But we don't get much of a choice about being around each other. You say things to me like you expect me to feel sorry for you, Darren, and... You just shouldn't do that. I shouldn't be the person you ask for that."   _It's not fair._

"I don't want to know you if you're gonna make me feel like shit every time we talk, Chris. I can't..." 

Chris' nostrils visibly flare, a sure sign that he's touched on a nerve. "I don't make you-" He stops, Chris' head gives a subtle shake before he goes on. "I don't mean to do that, but you make it really damn hard with the way you walk around me like you're some kind of victim." 

Darren looks at him and nods. "I'm sorry I come off that way. I... I'll try harder. I don't want to not know you but I have this new thing of working to get rid of toxic people in my life and I don't want you to be one of them." Darren swallows. He realizes what he's said. He has so many toxic people that can't leave his life, he doesn't know why he even tries. “I mean.  People that are toxic who I’m also allowed to get rid of.  Can we just... Go back to work?" 

Chris stares at Darren for a long moment, before he jerks his head in a single up and down nod. They fall into step beside each other in the way that people who know each other almost too well do, which is fucking hilarious in a ironic way. Darren's not sure they know each other at all. But God, he wishes they could get back to that time that they thought they did. 

They hover together in the doorway to the glittering party that neither of them particularly want to be attending. There are dates waiting, drinks watering down in melting ice, people to see. Still, they hesitate. 

"Are you looking forward to the duet?" 

Darren blinks at Chris in confusion. "Duet with who? What'd I miss now?" 

"Um, me?" Chris eyebrows arch up in mild amusement. "Come What May? We got the script and music like three days ago." 

"I don't read that shit until the day of, ever." Darren's brow wrinkles. They'd just done one last week? Don't these fuckers know how to do a break up? 

"Of course you don't." Chris rolls his eyes. 

"Maybe you’re just taking a shitty job too seriously.  But that's like the greatest love song of all time. It's probably a fucking figment of Blaine's imagination, isn't it? Have you read it? Stupid or sweet?" Darren looks out into the crowd, at Ricky trying to figure out where his client is.  He wants to hide forever. 

"Kurt's actually. And it's sweet. I mean, you're singing eighty percent of the song, of course, which I'm not exactly thrilled about but if one of us is going to be Satine, it's obviously going to be _moi_. But they're recreating the scene from the movie, so it should turn out pretty in any case. First one in a while I've actually looked forward to." Chris plays it off, but Darren knows he's been asking to be able to do this song for a couple of years now. This means something to him. They can't let their personal bullshit screw this one up. 

Darren smiles. "That's actually kinda awesome. I'll listen to the soundtrack and perfect it." He'll try a little harder for this one, if it gives him the look in Chris' eyes. Like he's dreaming as much as Kurt. “I know this one is important to you.  And hell, take any or all of my lines.  There’s nothing they can do about it; I bet they don’t even know who’s singing what.” 

Darren’s date bounces over in the most trailer trash way one could, interrupting the moment Darren feels like he’s about to have with Chris.  It’s an embarrassment, really… in a higher class event like this. She latches onto Darren and glares infamously at Chris. Darren rolls his eyes and takes his arm back. "I'll see you later, Chris." His eyes flicker to Chris' and he rushes off. 

The party is the same as every other Darren's attended this year. The same shallow, plastic people, the same perfume poured over garbage conversations. He drinks and sells his smile and takes in nothing. There's nothing of substance to absorb here anyway, it's all whiskey-flavored air. Smile, laugh, flirt, sip, repeat.  Hopefully, sleep will be thrown into the mix at some point soon. 

He manages to keep himself in check and only looks up to search the room for Chris a total of three times. 

The first time makes him feel a little sick. The boy from earlier in two years ago's Armani, has his hands on Chris' hips, leaning up to whisper to him from behind. This one is much younger than the last, uglier, less kempt. Not up to what he’s learned to be Colfer’s usual standards.   

The second time Darren looks for him he isn't able to find Chris at all, so he heads to the bar for a shot or three.  But then, not half an hour later, Chris is back. Sitting at a table and surrounded by a group of people who out-age him by easily twenty or thirty years each, every last one of them hanging on his every word. Waiter boy in the old suit is nowhere in sight. 

Darren’s own date is very much present with her brushing hands and flirty touches, not only toward Darren but also to his manager too.  Like, to the point where maybe something is actually happening between the both of them. He tries to make a joke about it and she rolls her eyes, annoyed at his very presence. "Calm your tits, Twinkie. You’re here to do a job. Now shut up and look pretty." And there's nothing he can do but get up as calmly as he can muster and go right back to the bathroom. He sits on the ground opposite the urinals and texts Chuck about how much of a bitch she is.  How much he hates his fucking life. 

When it's Chris that comes waltzing through the bathroom door five minutes later, Darren isn't even surprised. It's been that kind of Murphy's-Law-esque night. 

What does give him a mild shock is when Chris actually smiles and shakes his head, before walking over to use the bathroom in a stall this time. Darren knows he should get up and leave - this is beyond awkward - but even this is better than the alternative outside. So he stays put. 

Clearly, Chris must agree. His voice drifting out from the closed bathroom stall. "Peeing in front of you is weird." 

"You do you, Colfer. I'll just be here, waiting until it's time to go home. Having tons of fun, are you?" Darren pockets his phone and looks at the closed stall door. "My brother wants to visit in a few weeks. I haven't seen him in like six months and that fucking blows." 

Chris flushes after he finishes emptying his bladder of nerves and champagne and opens the stall door, to lean against the outside of it. "I'm sorry. I haven't really been home lately either to see my sister. Your brother still lives in New York, right?" Chris starts washing his hands with the same clinical meticulous methodology. 

"Yeah. He's too far, especially when I need him." He words it carefully. He doesn't want to come off as someone who Chris should feel sorry for. "Anyway." Darren swallows and looks at Chris in the mirror. He stares again; he doesn't care. There's a lump in his throat from swallowing down tears for the past ten minutes. He can't let it show. 

It's the first time anyone's called him a derogatory name, let alone someone who's supposed to be his friend. It hurts.  “My, quote, _girlfriend_ just called me a _Twinkie_.” 

Chris watches Darren's reflection struggling and he turns around with his forehead creased. "That’s... Uh, listen, if you really need to see him, your brother?  I'm sure you could negotiate an extra day off sometime soon? Make a three day weekend trip out there? These newfangled things called airplanes." Chris is trying to joke to lighten the look on Darren's face in the only way he knows how, Darren can tell. 

"You think he could get here in like forty-five minutes on these airplane things?" Darren looks up at Chris and waves him away. "Stop looking at me." He rolls his eyes so he doesn't cry, shakes his head so he doesn't laugh. 

"You're sitting on the floor of a men's room in a designer suit. Is there somewhere else I should look?" 

Darren shrugs. "I don't know." 

Chris nods and folds his arms over his chest, leaning back against the sink behind him. 

"Don't you have a date waiting out there?" So does Darren, but that's beside the point.  Fuck her. 

Chris wrinkles his nose. "Not that it's your concern, but no, I sent him home. He got annoying and I think I was allergic to something in his cologne. I still can't breathe through my nose." The fact that Chris keeps a straight face, making it impossible to know if he's kidding or not is what makes Darren crack a smile. 

"Maybe you're allergic to Armani two years ago." Darren smirks and gets up off the floor. "I think I need to go home." 

He brushes off his suit and makes sure he's somewhat presentable in the mirror. 

Chris' eyes follow Darren as he stands and walks over to the mirror. "Yeah, me too." They're standing side by side, checking themselves over in the mirror like you have to do in this town. Be mindful of yourself and how you look, always. Chris pauses with his hand on the door handle. "You should go see your brother. Might mean a day off for both of us." A tiny, curl of a smile and he's gone again. 

Well, then.  Maybe he will. 

 


	9. The One With All The Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. Sorry I missed last week, it was an emotional sort of weekend with a lot of crying and mourning. But I’m here and continuing on. Here’s the next one of Strangers Always You, which is the collection of one shots of our boys before Hedwig. This one is from filming Come What May. Hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think. xx, Nikkie

Rain in LA is not only is an inconvenience but a guarantee that everyone will be late to wherever they’re headed. And as Chris pulls into his lowly parking spot on the Paramount lot, a fully half hour later than anticipated, the writer’s assistant runs out with an umbrella and what could only be a new script. And… action!

He expected to spend his blessed three day long week filming a few New York scenes with Lea and Naya between now and Wednesday, before heading off for a four day break. Simple, easy, exactly what he needed after last week.

That… was a tense two days on set. Chris should have expected as much, that the one song he’d most been looking forward to on the show would turn itself into an awkward nightmare with the addition of Darren thrown in. Barking comments from the director that they were “too stiff”, “too far apart,” “Not emoting enough” had followed Chris home over the weekend and reinvented themselves as the distorted soundtrack to his dreams. Once they got the final screamed out “Cut” Chris felt his entire body sag with relief. He tried his best to ignore the way Darren’s arm tightened arm his waist with the reaction, before he’s politely stepped back and averted his eyes to the swirling dry ice. Chris has never been so happy to squirm his way off a soundstage. 

“Ryan wants to see you when you’re settled, please.” The assistant says, handing him a sixty-page document with Chris Colfer watermarked diagonally across the pages.

Chris takes it and smiles, throwing it under his arm to protect it from the drizzle of participation. “Of course, I’ll be right back. Just going to drop my computer off in the trailer.”

He doesn’t bother trying to decipher whatever rewrites they’ve been given just yet, there’s always something that someone has issues with around here. It’s a weekly occurrence. Chris ditches his belongings inside his trailer and changes into the warmer, thick coat that he wears around the set before shrugging off towards the war room. The fact that Ryan’s on set and specifically asked to see him raises the hair on the back of Chris’ neck a little. He hasn’t asked for anything too outrageous recently, so he doubts he’s in any real trouble, but one can never tell with this group.

“Hey. When’d you get here?” Darren is already in his tux, his hair gelled back, makeup set. 

Chris blinks his eyes rapidly, like it’s possible to flush the vision of Darren out of them. “Um. Just now.” He looks him up and down, grimacing. “Tell me this is what the rewrite is?”

Darren shrugs. “Ryan’s here today.” He’s dressed identically to how he looked when they had wrapped the uncomfortable Come What May number last week. Chris has a sneaking suspicion what “changes” have been made and that this one won’t be any shorter.

They walk down a short hall until they reach the production office the cast and crew have not-so-affectionately titled Ryan’s war room. It’s the place you go when the script calls for you to do something so over the top and ridiculous that human decency or a struggling sense of pride causes you to want to fight back. He’s been here more times than most. Chris raises a fist and knocks on the door.

They’re waved inside by a flustered looking PA and asked to wait for a moment until Ryan finishes taking a call. They make a strange pairing, Darren in Blaine’s tailored tux and shoes so shined they reflect the florescent lights over their heads and Chris in his own skinny jeans, glasses, and down-filled coat. He probably should have at least tried to brush his hair before heading to the set. 

Ryan’s figure sneaks into the doorway and they’re brought inside, doors closed behind the assistant clearly asked to take notes in the corner. 

As Ryan speaks at them, Chris can’t help but let his mind wander. The voice in front of him almost sounds like the teacher on Charlie Brown and it’s amusing that Chris is depending on Darren to carry the conversation. Of all people.

He catches Darren’s eye out of the corner of his own and snaps back into the conversation. he focuses, concentrating on the movements of Ryan’s mouth in between his mumbling and pen chewing. 

Blaine is supposed to be a cosmic ray of light in Kurt’s otherwise dark world. This is a dream sequence, a sense of vulnerability in the midst of a character’s cold, hard exterior who’s just trying to move on and can’t. 

Chris hasn’t played it open and willing enough, the rough footage looking more like two people stiff and awkwardly swaying back and forth at a middle school dance instead of being welcomed back into the warmth and safety of your own personal fairy tale and future.

Chris sighs. Kurt can be a fucking idiot. 

Darren laughs next to Chris through his nose, snorting at the words Ryan chooses to use. As if he’s trying to lay the double meaning of this stupid scene on thick, as if they don’t know how uncomfortable and awkward they’ve been around each other. 

They’re told the fans are expecting a lot out of this scene, Ryan is expecting a lot. Yeah, no pressure there. The sets have been altered and they want to begin re-shooting as soon as Chris is through makeup. 

They both agree, because what else are you supposed to do, and are ushered away. They stand in the foyer of the building waiting for the golf cart to usher them to where they need to go. Well, Darren seems to just be along for the ride. 

Chris eyes him in his flawless tux while they wait. The transformation they do on the slouchy weekend Darren into Blaine always makes Chris want to smirk. It doesn’t suit him at all. “If I’d known how many times we’d have to hear this damn song, I would never have suggested it.”

“I’m sorry they’re making you do this again. I know it must be hard.”

All the nerves in Chris’ body bristle at the comment, firing hot and in misdirection. “It’s not hard. It’s tedious.”

“Um, I mean… you showing feeling and all.” Darren shrugs and smiles his warm tiny smirk. 

Chris flashes him an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “We’re actors, that’s kind of in the job description.”

Darren laughs. “Shut up, Colfer. I’m trying to fuck around with you and you’re taking it too literal.”

Chris takes in a deep slow breath and releases it. He has to unwind and relax or this is going to go every bit as badly as the last time. He opens his mouth to apologize, when the cart pulls up and he slides across the rear seat, Darren scrambling in beside him.

“You okay?”

“I just don’t like having to do things over. It’s not fun to be told that you screwed it up and now everyone has to work harder.”

“You didn’t screw up, Chris. We just did it in a way that wasn’t the vision for Lord of the Rings.”

Chris snorts so loudly the assistant driving the cart turns around to glance at them. “He does have some Sauronesque qualities.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of Lord of the wedding rings that we are definitely eventually getting. But sure, let’s go with Sauron.”

Letting out a loud groan, Chris’ head flops back onto the seat behind him. “Don’t remind me. Are they actually going to make us go through with this? Isn’t your character like sixteen?”

“Fourteen and a half. And yeah. They are, if recreating Moulin Rouge is any indication. I’m just happy you’re the one coughing up blood.” Darren winks and tries to straighten the tux. “Dressing me in this two hours early is like giving a toddler some Jell-o and telling them to stick it the wall.”

Chris laughs and shakes his head. “By the time they get finished de-aging Blaine, Kurt’s going to end up doing fifteen years for statutory. I can pull off a lot of things, but I don’t think prision orange is one of them.” They reach the same soundstage they’d used for their rooftop serenade and both climb out of the cart. “I’m off to be made back into a swooning fragile creature with delicate, complex feelings.” Chris mimes a fainting spell at Darren’s feet.

“Have fun pretending!” Darren smirks and rushes inside the stage. 

He’s lucky in the fact that his physical transformation into Kurt doesn’t take as long as someone of the others (ie: the hair and makeup girls’ hour-long battle with Darren’s hair every single morning.) A little hairspray, base, powder, and nude gloss and he is good to go. It’s the mental exercise of placing himself into Kurt’s world that’s much harder, especially today. Chris used to think that he understood his character, knowing him had been something that was vitally important to him as an actor. But lately.... He just doesn’t get it. Why would you want to let someone back in who has hurt you so badly? Kurt has everything going for him in New York, school, his friends, even a new guy in his life. The fact that he can’t let go of the Ghost of Bowties Past is, in Chris’ humble opinion, an inexcusable weakness. 

Oh well, it’s a paycheck. He straightens his own pristine white silk tie and allows them to lead him back to set.

Darren is already an emotional mess, tears gathering at the rim of his eyelids. Chris watches as he crosses the set to his chair and sips the water waiting for him there. Chris decides that he shouldn’t talk anymore. He needs Kurt to take him over. 

Watching Blaine through Kurt’s eyes is a contrasting experience to seeing Darren through his own. He has to see hope, and comfort, the personification of everything that’s sincere and bright in the world in the same wide-set, round eyes that Chris himself tries very hard not to look into for any length of time. Their entire dynamic has enough comedy and tragedy to put any Shakespearean play to shame. 

Chris allows himself to watch Darren in his natural habitat. He is truly breathtaking in every sense of the word, moving in this sort of slow motion that only works when he’s the only part of a fantasy that matters. 

Ryan droned on and on about fantasy and and perfection and soul mates destined for only one another. As untrue as this situation would ever work in Chris’ own relationship - or lack thereof - with Darren, it still stands painfully true for Kurt and Blaine. And he needs to demonstrate that; he needs to give them what they want, suck it up, and act as though he’s fighting the good fight until Darren realizes right where he… might have belonged. If he were Blaine. 

They rehearse, only in the sense of the general area they should wind up in for certain phrases, where to grasp the other on their bodies. For the most part, though, Ryan is positively giving them free reign, undoubtedly just to see how absorbed the conversation this morning is. 

Darren runs the first verse, wrapping his own arms around himself and letting those huge golden eyes shine through the smoke and fog. His voice pleads for understanding of a love that will exist against all reason and lasts for the kind of eternities that Chris knows he doesn’t believe in. 

Darren is killing it, and Chris thinks he should step up to the game himself.

Chris attaches himself to Blaine as soon as it’s appropriate and he can’t let go. The lyrics of the song take him over and he needs… more. There’s no one else to blame if they don’t get this one right, so he embodies Kurt, he sees the undeniably beauty through Kurt’s rose-colored glasses and he feels. For the first time in such a long time, he feels for Darren.

As they sway over the tape marked on the floor, grasping to each other tighter for the cameras, Chris daydreams small scenes in Kurt’s life. New York had been unkind and lightless, he’d been stuck in a whirlwind of love-induced depression, everything in the world at Kurt’s feet except for the one thing he needs the most. Kurt’s a dreamer, a romantic with a fragile and soft heart who believes that a love is always worth fighting for, even if that love has fallen into the dirt and become tarnished and bruised. 

He manifests his way into Kurt’s actual body and starts to think not of him, but as him. This is his fantasy, his one true love, standing here in his arms so much so he could actually feel him. Kurt is not weak until Blaine’s name is mentioned. Kurt is not thrown into a pit of loveless self-hate and regret until Santana kindly reminds him of their past plans. And that’s not fair.

“Cut!”

Chris snaps out of the depressing, psycho mindset of the fictional character he depicts, but stays latched onto Darren’s body like an octopus. The broad hands that brace across his back don’t fall away or lessen their hold.

“Cut, indeed.” Darren whispers after a second, and pulls away then. Chris follows his lead, dependent on Darren’s every move. 

“Better, guys! Much better! You could feel the longing in that one.” The director crows from his chair behind the small army of cameras. “Give us a few minutes to reset and we’ll move on to the gazebo.”

Darren is bearing his bright, metallic eyes straight into Chris’ and Chris can’t stand it. Eventually, he points his own upward to meet the eye contact Darren craves and then, like a magnetic force, they don’t dare look away. The buzz of the crew around them is noted somewhere in the back of their minds. The fact that they’re probably in somebody’s way somewhere is left unsaid. They stand. Together, they stand, fixed only on each other, thousands of words bleeding out of the reflection of one another.

Chris wants to say he misses. Misses being together on set every day. That Kurt misses the love of his life. That he misses the ease of Darren’s laugh and the way they once never seemed to run out of words to say to one another. He just misses. But he doesn’t dare part his lips long enough to say a single word. 

Darren’s voice, however, is low and deep like he doesn’t want to disturb Chris’ complicated mind. “I need water.” 

Darren speaks the words but doesn’t move away, eyes locked on Chris’ face. He nods as if granting his permission. “Ye-yeah. Me too.” He spins on his heels and walks across the the far wall, putting as much distance between himself and Darren as the small side room of a soundstage will allow. He breathes deep and wishes he’d grabbed something to squeeze in his hands. He knows he only has a few minutes to get a handle on himself before they’ll be calling him back to once again look at Darren like he’s the only worthwhile thing in the world. They could give him five minutes or a year - Chris will never be ready to have to do that.

Darren makes his way to where Chris stands, taking one giant slurp of his water and licking his lips wet. This feels monumental to Chris, like it should mean something, but he’s not sure if there should be a nag or flutter in his chest. Like old times, Darren gives him no personal space to work with, his right arm not holding the bottled water flattened against Chris’ left. Darren fits perfectly into the nook if Chris would let him, and the quick shove is all the hint he needs to know what Darren wants. But it won’t happen; it can’t. So they stand, sipping their water, hardly acknowledging the fact that they look as though they’re sewn together until they’re expected to move and they move so in sync, it even scares Chris. 

They circle one another on either side of a gilded golden gazebo, eyes connecting, hearts open and words of promise and vows of until the end of time wrapping around them both. This goes on for lines, circling, watching but never able to touch. Until they do, Kurt falling into the prince’s arms as if it’s a real fairy tale. His head falls onto Blaine’s shoulder and even through the feel of expensive fabric under his cheek, he can smell a trace of familiar aftershave underneath the layers of hair gel and stage makeup and it brings Chris back to himself. One breath is all it takes and he feels his heart pull away. Kurt’s wearing his on his sleeve, while Chris’ is locked back down into a secure vault somewhere in the pit of his stomach. 

Chris only believes in happily ever afters when he is in control of the story, and this is no fairy tale. But God, what it could have been. 

When Ryan is satisfied enough, he orders the crew to start setting up for whatever’s next on the schedule. Thankfully, it doesn’t require Kurt or Blaine.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for reading. Let me know what you think :)
> 
> the one where Darren is an idiot.

“Maybe too much information, dude. But I think there’s something wrong.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” Joey leans into Darren’s refrigerator and snatches the six pack he finds. 

“I had sex last night.”

“What? How is that too much information? Was she hot?”

“He.” Darren blinks. “And yes, I guess. It was a stupid hookup but… I don’t think he… um, did it right.”

Joey blinks, like he’s trying to either clear Darren’s words from his brain or shuffle through index cards of friendly responses for the right one to say. “Oh…. Dude, that… sucks. You okay?”

“It just… I don’t know. Nothing, nevermind. Sorry.” 

“Um, cool. When do you work?”

“Not shooting today. Meeting with Ryan at three. Which basically means I’m in trouble. He probably had a fucking fly on the wall at the club last night.”

“Would they really, ya know, be all up your ass over something like that?” Joey doesn’t seem to catch what he’s just said until the words are fully out of his mouth. He opens one of the beers and drains half the bottle. “Not the best choice of words. My bad. My very, very bad.”

Darren laughs. “You’re an… I was going to say asshole. But.”

“Why do all of our terms and phrases involve buttholes? I blame you for this.”

“You should blame me for that. Come on, let’s play Halo or something until I have to go.”

“That, we can do, buddy.” Joey propels himself over the arm of Darren’s couch and lands in an awkward sprawl of legs and scattered throw pillows. He watches Darren move more carefully than usual. A line of worry appears around his eyes.

Darren shuffles over without lifting his feet off the floor and cringes with every step he takes. “Shut up, I’m fine.”

Joey says nothing, but he subtly picks up one of the fallen pillows from the floor and places it on the next cushion. He makes an obnoxiously innocent face, fluttering eyelashes and everything, and sips at his beer. “We playing, or what?”

“Yeah. Set it up.” Darren feels like an eighty-year-old man as he bends to sit on the pillow next to Joey. “Dammit.”

Joey pulls up the menu to start up their last saved game and stretches out across the coffee table for the controllers. He hands one to Darren and catches a look of pain Darren hadn’t wanted him to notice. “You’re not going to have fun with all your tight pants and saddle shoes this week, are you?”

“I never have fun with that shit, dude.” Darren clicks into the game and gets started. 

Frowning isn’t a thing Darren’s used to seeing Joey do often. He’s worried and it makes Darren feel even more like shit than he already did. He grabs his own bottle of beer and powers it down, drinking most of the bottle in one go. “Come on, dude. I gotta go in like an hour.”

“Yeah, gotcha. That’s just enough time for me to kick your as…. For me to proclaim myself the victor of this little skirmish.”

Darren laughs loud with his head thrown back. “Good thing you came to LA, douchebag. I’d be fucking lonely without you.”

“Well, tell Saunders that, man! He thinks he has the market cornered on your bestieness and the fucker has another think coming. Me and him gotta have words.”

Darren’s phone buzzes on the coffee table. “Boys, boys. There’s enough of me to go around.” He reads the text message: Ryan’s assistant asking if he’s on his way. 

“Ah, yes. But it’s all about the ranking and prestige. I refuse to be beat out by a guy who once ate a burger that had been left in his car for three days. Not happening.” Joey smirks and watches Darren scowling at his phone. “I’m assuming that duty calls?”

“They specifically told me three. Why would they ask me if I’m on my way at one-thirty?”

“Don’t know, D. Maybe one of those little butt monkeys you work with is pitching a bitch fit? Who you filming with this week?”

“Not Chris, I’ll tell you that much. You tiny little Glee fan. Get out of my face. You wanna come with?”

Joey grins and gives Darren a military salute. “Sure, always up for seeing how the other half lives. And by other half I mean the currently employed. Sure they don’t need to give your character a taller, straighter sidekick or something?”

“Yeah, that guy’s name is Chord Overstreet. Can we just go?” Darren jumps up and moans. “I swear if that hooker ruined sex for me, I’ll sue.” He grabs his wallet, phone, and keys, leading the way out of the door and into his car. 

Joey climbs into the passenger seat and automatically starts fucking with Darren’s radio. Some things never change. 

“He wasn’t actually a hooker.”

“Cool, dude.” Emotion has always been Joey’s strong suit, so when Sam Smith’s latest is on the radio, he takes a moment to belt it out. Darren just shakes his head and drives. 

Paramount’s still standing, so he’s not entirely sure why he had to rush here at Ryan’s insistence. His stomach flips in the worst way when he sees Chris standing in the parking lot outside of Ryan’s office, seemingly waiting for him. 

“Uh, Dare?” Joey’s glancing back and forth between Darren’s face and the tall figure standing several yards away. “Why do you look like Colfer’s going to pull a gun on you? He wasn’t the guy was he?”

“No, God no! I mean, not this time anyway.” Darren’s grin is evil and he rolls his eyes. “Chris and I had a bit of a misunderstanding yesterday.” Darren looks at Joey. “Thing 1 and Thing 2 surprised me on set when I was supposed to have lunch with him and he essentially told me that we’re nothing more than co-workers.”

“Okay. Ow?” Joey holds a hand over his heart like he’s just been shot himself. “That sucks, but it was just lunch, right? Why not just tell the guy to take a raincheck? You flake out on us all the frickin’ time.”

“He’s different, Joe. Come on, be nice.”

“He looks like he’s gonna kill you.”

“Yeah, hence the sex club last night.”

Joey’s entire face goes blank, his jaw dropping. He hurries and extracts himself from the car, waiting for Darren to join him, walking like the old man he is.

“Sorry. I’m provocative when my heart is broken.” Darren grins and nudges Joey in the rib because he knows Chris is watching them walk over. He wants the words to look as if they’re okay. As if he’s okay.

“Are you saying that…” Joey cut his eyes over at where Chris is still standing. He lowers his voice like Chris will be able to hear them from that far away. “Colfer’s the reason that you… did the dirty do with some dude?”

“Yeah. Tried to get my mind off of what he said yesterday and wound up fucking myself up even more.”

“Shit, dude.”

“Hey.”

Chris has his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans, his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. His face gives away nothing, as usual. 

Darren’s not sure he even wants to know what’s going on inside his head right now. “Chris, you remember Joey. Have any idea what this is about?”

Chris’ lips pull into a forced smile as he sticks out his hand for Joey to shake. His friend does so, but only after casting Darren a look first. “Hey. Yeah, it’s uh, it’s the Christmas episode. Major rewrites. Looks like they’ve received enough death threats that they’ve decided to cut Kurt and Blaine’s break up short.”

“Fucking finally!” Joey fist pumps. Darren and Chris glare at him in perfect synchronization. “Uh, sorry.”

Chris doesn’t seem to be able to keep the smirk off of his lips. “I’m not sure exactly what they’ve cooked up, but I know there’s been a total rewrite. No more exchanging Christmas gifts over Skype for us.”

“Probably something ridiculous and musical.” Joey nods. 

Darren looks at Chris then Joey. “Joe. Disappear for a while, yeah?”

“Dude bro is the third wheel, got it. I’m gonna go find myself a job. Wish me luck, my fine gentlemen!” Joey gives them both a goofy smile and starts to walk backwards down the sidewalk. He flashes Darren a double thumbs up before he vanishes around the corner.

“Sorry about him. He insisted on tagging along.” Lies.

“Hm? Oh, Joey? He’s funny.” Chris shuffles his feet against the sidewalk. 

“In that case, he learned everything he knows from me.”

“In that case, maybe I take it back.” Chris gives Darren a nervous little smile and then goes back to staring at the door like he is capable of willing it open with his thoughts.

The minutes stretch on. For Ryan to have wanted him here so fucking early they sure don’t seem to be in any hurry to start this little meeting. 

“So, yesterday was… bad.”

Darren snorts. “Bad? Mister big words and bestsellers can only come up with bad?”

“Really bad. I might have been a little harsher than I had to be.”

“I deserved it. I’m a shitty person. I’m sorry.”

Chris pulls the sunglasses off of his face. His eyes still reserve the distinct power to reduce Darren’s mind to senseless jumble, even when they’re ringed with dark shadows that prove Chris never went to sleep since Darren saw him last. “You’re not a shitty person. You’ve made shitty choices and surrounded yourself with doubly shitty people, but that happens a lot out here. It’s… hard to know who to trust and who you can’t.” Chris’ voice is softer as he says the last sentence, looking off across the parking lot at what Darren can only guess is a random white van with Grateful Dead stickers in the back windows.

“Joey and Dylan refer to them as Thing 1 and Thing 2.”

“You should put matching sweaters on your Christmas list.” Chris folds his arms over his chest. This is his protective stance. Darren knows it all too well.

“Hey, maybe I won’t know them by Christmas.”

Ryan’s assistant opens the door and smiles at them, motioning them inside. Darren steps forward and nearly screams in excruciating pain. “Mmmmm.” He keeps walking as normally as he can muster.

Chris’ alert eyes trace Darren’s steps as he walks down the hall and into the office. A little frown line creases between his eyebrows, but he stays quiet and follows the others into Ryan’s inner sanctuary.

“Afternoon, boys! Thank you for coming in. You both look great.” Well that’s a dickfaced lie if Darren’s ever heard one, neither one of them are looking their best today.

“We’re here now, Ryan. You can turn the GPS in our shoulder blades off.”

Ryan chooses to ignore that. “Want to talk to you both about New York City.” He slides three pages of a script to the both of them.

“Exterior, Bryant Park Ice Skating rink.” Darren reads it out loud and looks at Chris. “Cheesefest at it’s best, Colfer.”

Chris’ eyes are skimming across the pages of his own copy of the updated script. He makes a pained sound. Darren finds it really fucking ironic. “You are all trying to kill me, right? I’ve never even seen ice skates in real life.”

Darren can’t help but giggle. “Ah, I’ll teach you. It’s pretty easy, actually.”

“You’ll get it, Chris. Plus, free trip to New York!” Ryan smiles and sits back in his chair.

Chris rolls his eyes and sits back in his. He looks more like someone just offered him a free trip to the dentist to hear the big drill go off.

“When are we expected to be there? I have a previously-scheduled engagement in Chicago next week.”

“We’ll work around that. We’ve been talking to your teams already.”

“I’ll have to get someone to feed my cat.” Chris sighs, his face set in concentration like that’s the single most important issue facing the world. To him, it probably is.

“That’s all I’ve got for you, boys. Anything else while I have you?”

Chris is flipping through the pages, presumedly reading for any mention of his character. “Burt has cancer now? Christ, this poor kid doesn’t catch a break.”

“Oh, he will. And it will all be worth it in the end.” Ryan smirks. “Have a good day off, boys.”

Darren rolls his eyes and raises, shuffling out of the room as unaffected as he can. The pain is a burning throb and hurts the most when he hasn’t aggravated it in a while. “You know we’re getting married before the end of this shit, Colfer.”

Darren anticipates a snappy comeback, but once Ryan’s office door closes behind them leaving them alone in the dimly lit hall, Chris is silent. Darren has to turn around and look to see if Chris is even still there. His eyes are locked on Darren, considering and narrowed.

“Uh, what?”

“That… is precisely my question. What happened to you? Oh my God, are you and Joey…?”

“Are me and Joey what, Chris?” Darren’s confused. Until he’s not. “Oh! Oh my God. Ew, no!”

Chris gives him a disbelieving stare. “You’re shuffling your feet, you sat on only one cheek of your ass, and you are wearing the baggiest jeans in your closet. You think I don’t know what that means?”

Darren blushes fiercely. He can’t deny any of it but he can deny that it wasn’t Joey. “Joey is not… into me. I swear. Stop.”

“Uh huh. Well someone was obviously into you last night. And I doubt it was the person I saw you with yesterday.”

“You must really want me to vomit all over your stupid Prada shoes.”

Chris’ hands give a violent twitch where they hang at his sides like he wants to reach for something. “Are you… Um….” He isn’t looking at Darren at all, rather at one of the Glee plaques on the wall.

“Can I ask you an important question without it being weird? I’m assuming you know a little more about this stuff than I do.”

Chris blows all of the air out of his chest in a gust. “Pretty sure it’s going to be weird either way, but yeah, sure. Go ahead.” He seems restless, unnerved by the topic.

“What happens if…” Darren closes his eyes. “It really hurts still and I think he… not Joey… the other. I think he did it wrong.”

Chris’ eyes flash to his face, bright and steely blue. “Wrong how? Did he hurt you? Please tell me you were safe, Darren. I swear to God…”

“Safe, yes. Um, lubricated not so much.”

“Fuck.” Chris looks devastated, like he’s the one with the sore and potentially torn body instead of Darren.

“So, how do I fix it?”

Chris has wrapped his arms around his body, hugging himself, but Darren can still see the shaking in his hands. “You can’t… fix it, really. Whoever this asshole was needs to be dragged out into the street, have his dick cut off, and then, and only then, he can be shot.”

“That’s not helpful.”

“Sorry.” Chris runs a ran through his hair, causing it to stick up in every direction. He breathes deeply for a few seconds like he needs to calm himself down. His reaction makes no sense. “You’re probably torn. Was there… did you bleed?”

Darren shakes his head, blushing profusely.

“Okay, that’s… that’s good. That means nothing’s badly hurt. If you’re just irritated and sore then there’s not much you can do except let yourself heal.”

“I’ve been with three guys now, Chris. This is the only time it hurt. I think I’m a little scared.”

A startled look flashes across Chris’ face, turning his cheeks red and causes his voice to break in his throat. “O-only three? You… I thought that….”

“First two were… boyfriends, kind of. Last night was a huge mistake.”

Chris shakes his head, stuck in a confused fog that won’t lift. “But you and me, we… I thought that you’d been with a lot of… I mean, you certainly acted like it.” He frowns and his eyes and voice are both distant. He’s lost in another time and place. One Darren often finds himself revisiting as well.

Darren coughs. “I think that was just the connection. It was meant to happen.”

“And you haven’t… been with a guy since, um… since?”

“Besides last night? Nope. But girls tend to…” Darren widens his eyes. “Sorry!”

Chris stumbles back a step, sagging against the wall and sliding down a few inches so that Darren looks taller for once. It takes a while, but when he eyes finally lift back to Darren’s there’s no disgust or anger in them, even the wilful foggy memories are gone. There’s nothing left but tender concern and sea glass blues and greens that Darren wants to drown in. “Darren, that guy could have really hurt you. If it’d been that long and you weren’t taken care of properly… You can do real damage.”

“I try not to have sex with people I don’t trust. I told you last night was a mistake.”

Chris hands are still trembling, Darren can see them shaking right through the pockets of Chris’ jeans. “It was because of yesterday, wasn’t it?”

Darren feels the tears pooling in his eyes, he feels them spilling over without any dignity or control. He can’t feel his lungs contract because they’ve already combusted. “No.”

Chris’ own breathing sound labored, uneven. He won’t look at Darren… or can’t. But Darren’s guessing it’s more won’t. He’s never been more thankful to not know what someone else was thinking as he is right now. “You can’t…” Chris doesn’t seem to be able to decide whatever it is Darren can’t do, or at least he’s unwilling to say.

“I can’t what, Chris?”

“That was really fucking stupid.” Chris’ voice is lower, thicker than Darren’s used to. He’s still staring at anything in the hallway that isn’t Darren. He can almost feel Chris’ walls building themselves up higher and thicker than ever, coils of razor sharp barbed wire strung across the top.

“I’m aware.”

“Anything could have happened to you. Anything.”

“I needed a reckless night after I got out of work. It started with a drink and just kinda… escalated. The worst part was… that I felt like…”

“Like instead of getting what you wanted you lost something?” Chris says the words with a sadness that told Darren way too much about things he tries very fucking hard not to think about.

“Like I was cheating on someone I care about very much. Like that part of me was reserved for someone who meant so much more than just some cheap fuck and I even fucked that up.”

Chris is still. The only sound in the hall is the unmatched, sounds of their breathing and the quiet murmur of muffled voices behind closed doors. Until that moment, Darren hadn’t really remembered where they are. This was not the best location for this kind of conversation. Not by a long shot when you carry around secrets like his. Chris always had made him lose all sense of time and place.

“Chris, I’m-”

“Please don’t do that again.”

Darren can only whisper. “Okay.”

“Find somebody who won’t… hurt you. You don’t deserve that.”

Darren rolls his eyes. He absolutely deserves that. “Okay.”

Chris opens his mouth and Darren waits for another of his soft admonishments, but it doesn’t come. Instead Chris is pushing himself off of the wall and barreling past him, out of the swinging doors at the end of the hall without even as much as another look.

Blew it. Again.


End file.
